


Life Unexpected

by Lookingforgrowth



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:18:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 157,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lookingforgrowth/pseuds/Lookingforgrowth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a tragic car accident took the lives of Liam and Elsa Jones, Killian found himself the heir to their family home, their business and their only child. Despite two large holes in his heart, he thinks he finally has things under control after a year of struggle and grief. In walks Emma Swan gradually filling both holes in the most unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to RavenclawPianist for agreeing to beta this story!  
> Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT or characters from the show. Eloise is the only OC.(Title and style of chapter titles is inspired from the tv show ‘Life Unexpected’ the plot, however, is not.)

 

**Family Disconnected**

His sneakers pound heavily against the dull linoleum of Mass General and he feels like life as he knows it has just been T-boned by that damn semi-truck. Nothing will ever be the same.

 

Confirmation comes in the form of strawberry blonde hair raked through with frustration that lingers at the roots and red, puffy eyes staring into the abyss.

 

“Anna!” His voice is hoarse but enough to catch her attention. She looks wrecked.

 

‘Wrecked’ is the operative word. Wrecked, like the car they were driving, like the family they left behind— _Wrecked_? No, not wrecked.

 

_Destroyed._

 

Because a wreck isn’t always fatal, sometimes it’s a fallen fender that can be fixed in a week. A wreck doesn’t signify that he’s losing the two people who were like limbs to him.

 

“Killian.” Her voice cuts out as she sobs. Before he can reach her, his knees give out.

 

They’re gone.

 

And it’s the phone call he never wanted to receive, the reality he never wanted to experience. It’s life without Liam and Elsa. It’s life without the people who loved him, raised him, and taught him to be better than your average orphan. He’s not an orphan when they’re around, but now they’re gone.

 

All at once he’s hit with the pressure of being the big brother and keeping order and writing Elsa’s thank you notes and learning how to cook a turkey. He wonders who he’s supposed to grieve more; because yes, Liam is his only brother, but Elsa has been a true mother to him since they met. It’s not fair, it hurts everywhere and the sensation is only seconds in.

 

He has a lifetime to go without them.

 

He doesn’t want to go anywhere without them. They go camping every summer and they have so many summers left to do this together. They are going to take a family trip to England this year. Liam is going to get the Royal Navy contract this year. They’re going to do big things. They _were_ going to do big things. They were trying for another child. They…

 

_They’re gone._

 

Everything they still had left to do is sitting in this life. but they no longer are.

 

He can’t move from this stupid fucking square of linoleum because every time he breathes he wants to die, yet they’ve moved on from this life to the next.

 

-/-

 

But he does move, he moves on to fill their shoes in every aspect of the lives they’ve left behind. He becomes the CEO of Liam’s corporation, he becomes the executor of all their accounts and he becomes the guardian of their three-year-old, Eloise.

 

Anna moves, too. She moves out of Boston and on with her life. She has dreams to follow, storms to chase and a husband to do it all with.

 

-/-

 

**12 months later**

 

 

A year goes by and they don’t talk about it. No one mentions the accident to them in passing. Ellie and Killian live their lives in Boston, recreating what it means to be a family, what this family, the two of them, means to each other.

 

Anna and Kris had lives and dreams. They can’t be tied down by a business, by a lifestyle, by a child. They are storm chasers; blizzards, hurricanes, tornadoes. They live for the thrill; much, much more dangerous lives than Liam and Elsa, yet they’re the ones still living.

 

And he’s grateful for that. He loves Anna and Kris, they’re all he has left beside Ellie. It’s just one of those things he thinks about when it’s 3am and the ghosts come haunting. Liam and Elsa were safe and practical, Anna and Kris are risk-takers; but fate has a way of showing us that no number of precautions can keep you out of death’s grasp. Maybe Anna and Kris have the right idea, maybe it’s better that they live their lives like there’s no tomorrow, they can do that after all.

 

He prides himself on not being bitter. He’s not, truly. He loves his life now with Ellie. He has more meaning, more purpose than he ever thought. He never realized at 26 that what he believed to be living was simply existing.

 

Now _this_ is living.

 

‘This’ being Friday afternoon trips to the grocers to pick up weekly essentials with Ellie in tow. She’s turning five in a bit and he’ll have less and less time with her to do this as the years progress. Of course, that decline in free time may not occur for another decade when she’s 15 and hates him, but he’s been using this year to grasp what the future holds for them and how every moment is precious.

 

He’s learned now not to dwell on the past, so they don’t talk about it. When she notices everyone’s mother and father picking them up from preschool, she doesn’t ask where hers is. She knows very well where they have gone and why they can’t return.

 

There’s not much more to talk about.

 

Instead, they talk about who will hold the grocery list. It’s always her, with eager hands and a bright smile he hopes never fades.

 

It only took him the first two months to learn he’s supposed to wipe the cart down with the sanitizing wipes before setting her inside. It took her four to voice that she was a bit unhappy with his choice in cereals. After six months, she became vocal enough to request ‘Jake and the Neverland Pirates’ fruit snacks and directing him around the store to acquire the items that were usually on the list.

 

Of course, she couldn’t exactly read. She’s only four. She can, however, remember very well, and recognize repetition. According to her preschool teacher she’s ahead of her age group and he deserves a much-needed pat on the back.

 

They say that often.

 

_‘Pat yourself on the back, Jones, business is booming.’_

 

_‘Give yourself a round of applause, Killian, you’re doing good work with that kid of yours.’_

 

_‘Most brothers wouldn’t do what you’re doing.’_

 

Most brothersdidn’t have Liam. Liam was his father figure, his provider, protector, and bloody advocate. For Liam, he would have given his life.

 

Or change it, which he has by becoming Ellie’s guardian and the owner of Liam’s business, Jolly Roger Inc. The house, however, was just too much for him to handle. It’s one thing to look in the eyes of a little girl and see two of the most influential people he’d ever known, another to sit in Liam’s big boy chair and run a company, praying he’s doing it justice. To live in their home, smell their scent in the furniture, see their ghost in the bathroom mirror when he gets ready in the morning: that’s unbearable.

 

So he sells the house and buys a high-rise overlooking the harbor. It has engineered hardwood floors that are stain resistant, huge windows for optimum light, and a kitchen perfect for the two of them and their ‘Pancake Saturdays.’

 

“Pancake Syrup!” Ellie squeaks, which leads Killian down that aisle after confirming that was actually an item on the list.

 

“Very good.” He winks as he pushes the cart slowly down the aisle.

 

“Uncle Kilo…” Ellie’s using her sweet asking voice. He expects her to be asking for those drumsticks without the nuts he bought last week out of weakness.

 

“Yes, love bug?”

 

“Can you throw my hair up?” She’s a bit whiney for having just woken up from nap an hour ago. He scans over her person; long, messy, dirty blonde hair hanging about her shoulders and down her back. Her bright blue eyes widen with pleading and of course he won’t deny her anything, but he’s curious. She usually likes her hair down.

 

“What’s wrong with it down?” He asks.

 

“My neck is kinda hot” Ellie shrugs, but Killian isn’t satisfied. His raised brow motions for her to continue. “Only princesses wear their hair down and messy. Queens always have it up. I just wanna practice for when I’m queen.”

 

Right. The queen thing. Her vast research in the Disney Princess vault has led her to believe she’s outgrown the princess title.

 

At first it was Anna’s idea. She said that she always related to Disney princesses because they too had deceased parents. It was like a rule or something and Killian agreed because if there had been someone he looked up to with similar upbringings, he’d have felt more connected to the world.

 

He wants Ellie to feel connected. He’s thankful for his circle of friends and colleagues. One of Ellie’s best friends is Roland, the motherless child of the company’s Vice President, Robin Locksley. Killian never knew another orphan before Elsa and Anna came into their lives. Maybe relating to someone would have been healthier.

 

“Honest, Uncle Kilo, it’s what queens do.” Ellie holds her wrist out to him, practically waving the elastic hair tie wrapped around it in his face. “Please.”

 

“Yes, your highness.” He sighs. “Just a plain ol’ bun then?” Ellie nods, evidently pleased with his willingness to aid her.

 

“OW!”

 

Killian had to steer with his elbows as he concentrates on getting all her hair through the elastic multiple times. Ellie was his main focus, which would be his explanation to the person he just hit with his cart, once they stop muttering explicits.

 

“Oh no!” Ellie gasps as she turns around. Killian delays for another second or so before he turns to look at the victim of his carelessness.

 

“Shit.” It’s a woman, a beautiful blonde woman of average height that stood now leaning against a display and rubbing at her ankle. “Death by damn Achilles heel,” she grumbles, all fury wrapped in a tight little figure and a flowing mane that makes pure gold dim beside it.

 

The family summered in NYC once, went to the Met and discovered a Rembrandt. The painting gleamed with a brightness that can’t quite be explained, as if there were a light being held behind it, shining through the lightest tones in the canvas. He found his head pressed against the wall trying to get a peek behind the painting to find their secret.

 

There was no trick. It was pure magic.

 

It’s not the colors flowing off the page, it’s the way he leaves creation in the paint. Rembrandt had a missing masterpiece walking around Boston because _her_ emerald eyes shine straight past her lashes and across the invisible line that keeps Killian from kissing her on sight. There’s a glowing lightness in her skin that has him questioning how saints learned to swear.

 

“Apologies,” Killian slips out in a grunt; a weak attempt to dislodge him from his stupor.

 

“For what? Taking off my ankle or staring at me like a freak?” All fury and fire indeed.

 

And impossible beauty

 

“The former.” He chuckles. “Although, I should apologize for the latter as well, seeing that I’m still staring ’til this moment.”

 

“I’d take your apology in the form of ceasing with the googly eyes. I’m nothing special.” He doesn’t expect someone so magnificent and strong to be the least bit insecure.

 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Love.” Killian takes a step into her space without conscious thought. He’s closer than any stranger should be to another, but can’t find it in himself to care.

 

“Don’t call me love.”

 

“What can I call you then?” He scans over her face. She’s stern, trying hard not to react to the close proximity and perhaps he’s an arse for even moving close to her, but there’s no such thing as an atomic bomb only claiming one casualty. The explosions across his chest, gut and groin had to have occurred in her, too.

 

“Emma Swan.”

 

“Swan.” He grins, dipping his head low enough to hear her gulp. “They’re a fiery bunch. All beauty on the surface, but I’ve seen them take on packs of dogs before and send them running. That suits you, Love.”

 

“What did I say?” She grits through clenched teeth. “You call every girl ‘Love?’”

 

“Well,” he pauses, taking a step back and remembering the only actual love in his life. “I call Eloise here ‘little love’ or 'love bug’, but she’s special.”

 

“You can be special too, Em-mah!” Ellie chirps from the cart, swinging her feet eagerly. “I like you, you’re pretty!” The Jones’s can always spot a beauty.

 

It appears Emma hadn’t spotted _that_ beauty, however, until now. Her eyes widen, but not in surprise, more like incredibility. Her lips part slowly, and she takes the most calculated steps toward Ellie, that look never slipping from her gorgeous face.

 

“You think I’m pretty?” She whispers and it baffles him because she sounds so insecure; to think a small child finds her any less than mystifying is a mystery in itself. The larger puzzle begins at the fear-like softness of her tone and continues on through the timid way she watches Ellie watch her in return.

 

“Very.” Ellie nods. “We’re so sorry, Emma.”

 

“It’s fine,” Emma waves off as she steps just that much closer to Ellie. “You’re really pretty, too. You have your father’s eyes.” She turns then, meeting Killian’s eyes and he’s so enamored, he about misses the ‘father’ comment.

 

“Yeah…” Ellie sighs.

 

“Well… I’m all healed, so…”

 

“Right.” Killian shakes himself from the way he’s watching her. “Well, once again, on behalf of myself, er, Killian Jones” He gestures to himself, although he’s certain she already realizes he’s revealing his name, “and my niece, Ellie. We’re deeply apologetic and hope you truly experience no swelling.”

 

“Niece?” he may be imagining the perked tone of voice.

 

“Aye. Ellie is my brother’s daughter. Hence the matching lookers.” He chuckles just a bit as he motions to his eyes.

 

“Oh…” Emma holds out her hand, and the bastard that he knows himself to be brings her knuckles to her lips solely for the surprise factor. And, oh, is she shocked. Her eyes widen quite a bit, her shoulders tense and she watches him with a slack jaw.

 

(For one reason or another, he catalogs the way her skin smells of honey and cinnamon.)

 

“It’s a pleasure to have run into you, literally.”

 

She snorts and tugs her hand away.

 

“Don’t make a habit of it, God only gave me two ankles.”

 

—/—

 

He sees her twice more before leaving the store. She’s standing in line the second time, three pints of ice cream and nothing else cluttering the basket on her arm.

 

He hopes they’re all for her. He hopes she’s not planning on sharing with another when she gets to where she’s going.

 

He hopes more than anything, a habit is made in the form of seeing her face on their grocery shopping outings every Friday.

 

—/—

 

He thinks about her on the drive home. All seven blocks toward the harbor. He thinks about the way her hair would look gleaming in the sun. He thinks about the way the water would reflect in her eyes, possibly opening up whole new universes of greens and golds.

 

He thinks about the sadness she carries in those eyes and he hopes he can meet her again, hopes he can find a way to open up whole new worlds of security and happiness.

 

He thinks he saw that same look he notices in his own eyes, the look he fights tooth and nail to keep from appearing in Ellie’s eyes.

 

The look that says you’ve been left alone

 

—/—

 

And it wouldn’t be Friday if he didn’t find himself in front of their iMac ringing Anna from overseas on a Skype call. It wouldn’t be Friday if Ellie wasn’t sitting patiently in his lap, tense because she’s never certain her aunt will answer.

 

“ELLIE!” Anna’s high-pitched squeal shook Killian from his thoughts. The strawberry blonde appeared crystal clear on their large iMac screen.

 

“Aunnie Anna!” Ellie presses her nose to the screen like always.

 

“Love bug, back up, please.” Killian whispers. Ellie deftly remembers their previous talks of where the camera was. She instead extends herself to press her nose against the small black circle above the screen. “Oh Ellie,” he sighs.

 

“It’s an Eskimo kiss,” Ellie adds as she sinks back against her uncle’s chest. “‘Cuz you said you were in uhm…” she turns to Killian, silently pleading for him to help her out.

 

“Iceland.” Killian whispers.

 

“Right… And that’s where Eskimos live. In ice and stuff.” Ellie nods convincingly and if it weren’t for 7th-grade geography, Killian would be inclined to believe her.

 

“Remember when I told you all the ice was in Greenland and Iceland is similar to the rest of Europe?” Anna’s using her educator’s voice. Occasionally, in between storm seasons, she’d take the time to teach adventurers how to survive extreme weather conditions.

 

“Uhm.” Ellie shakes her head slowly. “Greenland is icy, but Iceland is icy too?”

 

“It’s cold in the winter. But it’s warming up now, probably only 15 degrees lower than Boston right now. How cold is it there?”

 

“It’ll be about 50 tonight,” Killian replies

 

“Our high today was 49,” Anna states like highs and lows were the same things.

 

“Anna, Love, that’s cold, okay?”

 

“Well, compared to the Yukon or Alaska, or Greenland even…” Killian knows she’s about to set on a tangent again. “And then there’s Antart—“

 

“Ellie” Killian clears his throat loudly. “Tell Aunnie Anna about your birthday plans.”

 

“Oh please do.” Anna grins bright enough to transcend through the screen.

 

“It’s going to be a corn-a-ton,” Ellie explains happily. “I’m not gonna to be Princess Ellie anymore, I’m gonna be Queen Eloise.” The tyke speaks proudly.

 

“Queen Eloise huh?” Anna echoes, “Well that’s some title for a six-year-old.”

 

“Yeah, even larger for a five-year-old.” Killian corrects.

 

He isn’t bitter, but he is extremely frustrated by Anna’s inability to remember anyone else’s life. She could speak for hours about eternal winters but besides the visually evident, she couldn’t recall more than three facts about her niece. One being her name.

 

“Right, you’re five.”

 

“I’m four.” Ellie mumbles. “I’ll be five soon. July 3rd. You’re coming, right?”

 

“July?” Anna turns from the computer for a moment. Ellie shakes her legs anxiously awaiting a confirmation.  A year’s gone by and they don’t talk about it, but Ellie lost more than her parents that night. Anna hasn’t been back in Boston since the service. “Geez, you know July is the start of monsoon season. We do most of our traveling then.”

 

“Anna?” Killian groans. “You’ve been gone a year.”

 

“A long year,” Ellie adds for dramatic effect. Killian feels his frustration growing, but if he speaks out of turn to his sister in front of their niece he’ll only punish himself later for it.

 

“Eloise, why don’t you go tidy your room and bring out the things you want to show Aunnie Anna tonight.”

 

“Ohh, okay.” Ellie rocks her shoulders against her uncle, trying her best to conceal a grin. “You want to tell Aunnie Anna about how much you love Emma, and I can’t hear?”

 

(Perhaps he occasionally thought aloud on the drive home.)

 

“Emma?” Anna perks up.

 

“She’s so beautiful Aunnie Anna. Prettier than Tiana and Snow White. Prettier than Cinderella and Jasmine, even.” Ellie’s gushing now and Killian knows exactly which one of them wants to talk about her, and it’s not him.

 

He barely just stopped thinking about her.

 

“Wow, that’s awfully pretty,” Anna encourages

 

“She’s really pretty,” Ellie repeats.

 

“Who is she?” Anna asks. Killian holds up his hand to have her hold her thoughts for the moment.

 

“Ellie, what did I ask?” Killian reminds Ellie, patiently.

 

“Yes, Uncle Kilo,” Ellie presses a kiss to his cheek before climbing off his lap. “I’ll be right back Aunnie Anna, don’t leave.”

 

“Okay,” Anna promises. She waits all of two seconds before jumping back in. “So, who is Emma?”

 

“She’s a lass we met this afternoon at the grocers,” Killian shrugs.

 

“You like her?”

 

“She’s really beautiful and was warm to Ellie,” Killian catches himself gushing to Anna, just like old times in high school. “Nothing actually happened. I don’t even have her number.”

 

“You really like her.”

 

“I’d really like to know why the bloody hell you’re not coming to her party, Anna.” Killian counters. “This is the first birthday she’s celebrating since the accident.”

 

“Killian,” Anna pouts through the screen. “Don’t guilt me, you know I don’t do well with guilt. I just… they picked you for a reason. You’re better at it, so much better. You saw me, I can’t even remember how old she is, I would have been awful at this.”

 

“I’m not bloody well asking you to raise her.”

 

“You know, you’re like them in that way. You fall into whatever role life gives you. You love so instantly, which is probably why Emma is all you can talk about. Did you plan the wedding already? Wondering how ‘Emma Jones’ sounds?”

 

“Don’t you tease me to get out of this discussion. Anna, you have obligations to your niece.” Killian scolds.

 

“I know that, _Dad_.” Anna rolls her eyes. “You sound just like him, you know? I love Ellie, and I love you too, I just… the holidays. I promise this time. I’ll write it down right now. I’m giving up Winters across the world for you two. That’s our busiest season. Okay?”

 

(Funny how every season is her busiest season.)

(Funnier how they grow more distant as each season passes.)

 

Her eyes are so wide and even from all these miles away he can still see her true core in them. She’s not the best at remembering, but she’s Anna and she would never hurt them purposely.

 

“Okay, but I’m still upset with you.”

 

“That’s fine. I’ll take pouty Kilo over angry, scolding Killian any day.”

 

Anna was the one who gifted Ellie with the idea to call him that in the first place. He was going to come up with some cool nickname like ‘Hook’ but the bubbly woman beat him to it.

 

“Don’t call me that.” He grumbles but a smile still spread across his face. “I miss you, Anna. And that bloke of a husband you have, too. I miss talking to you about matters. Ellie misses you, too.”

 

“And we miss you guys, I swear it.” Anna’s frowning and rubbing at her forehead as she sighs. “I’m going to do some serious thinking, Killian. I promise. Elsa and Liam would want us to be a family.”

 

“They’d want you being you, adventures and what not.” Killian dismisses. They’ve had this conversation before, he knows there’s a method to their madness. He knows they set her free for some reason or another.

 

“They wanted that for both of us. We were supposed to sail the world together, remember?” Anna lets a small chuckle out. “What did Liam use to say on camping trips?”

 

“You brought the stars home in your eyes.” Killian laughs. “He’d say that to you, to me he’d just tell me to quit my daydreaming and stop cutting class.”

 

This was what he needs. This is why it was so hard that she was so far away. He needs someone it doesn't hurt to talk about them with. He needs someone that knows them inside and out. A year’s gone by and they hadn’t talked about it. No one was allowed to bloody talk about it. Except for Anna, because she lived it. The problem is she’s never available to talk about it.

 

“You and me, Kilo.”

 

“Anna!” He holds a finger up at her, accusingly. “Don’t call me that.”

 

“Besides, Kilo, it’d be really awkward to meet your girlfriend of two or three months. It will make much more sense by Christmas. We’ll stay a month. I’m excited. Get excited.”

 

“I am excited.” he holds up his hands in defense.

 

“I wanna be escited too!” Ellie reappears with her stuffed reindeer from Kris she’s had since birth. She’s quick to hop back up on Killian’s lap. “Why are we so escited?”

 

“Well, Aunnie Anna is coming for Christmas.” Killian presses a kiss to her temple.

 

“You are?” Ellie asks breathlessly.

 

“Mmmhmm” Anna tucks her lips in to keep the toothy grin from spreading.

 

“Yay! Sven and I are escited!” Ellie cheers, waving her stuffed companion around.

 

“Awww, Sven!” Anna’s cooing and waving at the screen “You still have him, that’s so cute. Awe, Ellie I miss your cuteness so much.”

 

“You can have all of it for Christmas.” Ellie supplies happily. “I miss you too, and Uncle Krissy.”

 

“Oh god.” Killian nearly chokes on the laugh rupturing from his throat. “Oh, please do tell Uncle Krissy we miss him terribly, Anna.”

 

“Will do, Kilo.” Anna winks. The laughter dies in his throat after that. “I should be going, it’s late here and I have to teach tomorrow.”

 

“Oh yes.” Ellie nods. “Get a good sleep. Love you to the moon.” Ellie vows with sincerity. “See you for Christmas, and next time on here?”

 

“I’ll try for next Friday again, I’ll call you later this week, Killian. I love you both-to the moon.”

 

“To the moon,” Killian replies, taking Ellie’s wrist in his and waving with her. “Bye, Aunnie Anna.”

 

“Byyeeee!” Ellie sings.

 

“Bye, guys!” Anna waved one final time.

 

—/—

 

Forgiveness isn’t something he’s always been the greatest at. He would hold grudges longer than presidents would hold office when he was younger.

 

It’s the reality that Liam and Elsa were just beginning their lives when they lost them. It’s unfair, life’s too short, and people don’t outlive the anger you hold inside.

 

Now he tries to be compassionate, tries to understand. He holds stronger to his connections than his grudges, he stays calm even when a storm rages within and he never acts out of anger. You can’t take actions back.

 

Hell, you can’t take words back.

 

You can’t have people back.

 

—/—

 

He lays Ellie down that night with a story about a princess who was separated from her parents. There was a terrible storm that needed to be chased out of the kingdom. It was the only way.

 

He makes up details about alternate worlds the king and queen must travel to. He reminds her that there’s nothing closer than the distance from her thoughts to her heart. She asks if they miss the princess as much as the princess misses them.

 

He tells her ‘more’

 

“So much more.”


	2. Motto Reflected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a tragic car accident took the lives of Liam and Elsa Jones, Killian found himself the heir to their family home, their business and their only child. Despite two large holes in his heart, he thinks he finally has things under control after a year of struggle and grief. In walks Emma Swan gradually filling both holes in the most unexpected way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the insane response. All the kudos, bookmarks and comments are so greatly appreciated, you have no idea, honest. 
> 
> I have to thank RavenclawPianist for being my awesome beta!

**Motto Reflected**

She sees him the following Friday in the same store, with the same little girl.

 

She sees him and she fights the way her stomach tumbles at first glance. She won’t allow herself to realize the only reason her knees aren’t quaking like their last encounter is because he’s not actually looking at her in return.

 

He’s staring at these jugs of milk. His niece, Ellie, is sitting in the cart, sneaking a bag of powdered donuts behind his back and she can’t fight the grin taking over her lips when she continues to look their way.

 

It had been seven days. Only seven, but still already seven and you’d think he’d be off her mind. They didn’t spend seven minutes together and yet for these seven days she hasn’t been thinking of much else.

 

Day one was the usual. It was Friday and she was prepping for a weekend of Ben and Jerry’s, rom-com movies and few reasons to leave the comforts of her bed. He finds his way into every damn movie.

 

(He plays the lead very well in her mind)

 

Day two and three were spent the same way. Day four rolled around and she found a way to keep him out of her thoughts long enough to work. When work was done he was right back there, and she was back at square one—daydreaming of a guy she barely knows.

_Barely?_

 

Not even ‘barely’ describes the amount of knowledge she lacks on Killian Jones. He’s gorgeous, but that’s the visibly evident, and he has a niece named Ellie, and his name is Killian Jones.

 

Then there’s his accent.

 

(No, she is not going to think about his accent)

 

Everything else she thinks she knows about Killian Jones is a mixture of romantic comedy clichés and things she’d thought up during day five and six.

 

But its day seven and they are right back where they started. He is strolling his niece around with him as he grocery shops and she feels his lips on her knuckles like it has only been minutes since their first encounter.

 

Suffice to say, he’s under her skin. There are two ways to deal with it, find a flaw to use to get over him, or get as far away as she can.

 

She would do the second option, honest, but his cart is parked on the way to frozen foods and walking around a busy grocery store just to avoid a good-looking guy seems dumb, right?

 

Besides, he’s not even looking. He’s still got his nose stuck in a milk cooler, juggling about three gallons.

 

Emma walks by. It’s a slow, yet purposeful stride. She doesn’t want to scurry past like some frightened chihuahua just in case he does notice her. Of course, he doesn’t notice her until Ellie calls out her name.

 

“Emma!”

 

 

Sweet, far-too-enthusiastic-over-a-stranger Ellie; she can’t make out anything else the kid is saying because her mouth is full of powdery mush and it’s disgusting and cute at the same time.

 

Emma never thinks kids are cute. Kids are… well, kids are something. They are a lot of things really but she’s never spent time around one long enough to find any of it out. Until now, all kids were just reminders.

 

Now _almost_ all kids are reminders; this kid, however, is sweet and beautiful and completely reminiscent of nothing negative at all. In fact, Emma looks at Ellie and sees the hopeful eyes of a kid who hasn’t been hurt by the big bad world, a kid she wished she was growing up.

 

And she wants to protect that.

 

“Hey, Ellie.” She will remind herself later that she hadn’t planned on ever seeing them again, but who would believe her with how eagerly she just replied to this adorable little girl with bright blue eyes.

 

He turns then, eyes lit with surprise as he glances over her appearance before meeting her gaze, a joyful smile present. “Swan.”

 

Her last name. She had forgotten she gave him her last name. She doesn’t typically do that. Her last name is all she has in this world, the only thing that says someone wanted her once. Maybe that someone had since changed their minds, but she never changed her name. She just stopped giving it out to people.

 

But she gave it to him.

 

“Uh huh. You remember.” She comments as she scans his body for no reason at all. He’s holding two jugs of milk just below the opening in his dress shirt. He’s revealing chest hair that has her rethinking her previous stance on chest hair. His grey slacks seem fitted enough to make her wish she took a longer moment to survey him while he was still turned around.

 

“Oh, a gentleman never forgets a beautiful woman he’s wounded with his vessel.” He has the nerve to flirt with her in front of his niece. Her body has the nerve to react to the 1000 watt smile he’s using to do it with. It’s all too much for a Friday afternoon grocery shop. She should be more tame right now. “It is very good to see you walking upright and free of injury. At least we know now that she can’t sue, right Ellie?”

 

“Sue?” Ellie still has her hand snug in the bag of donuts and Killian is still holding the cold milk. “Why would she sue? She likes us.”

 

“I’m glad you think so, Love Bug.” Maybe she does like the way he’s so sweet with his niece. She thinks they must spend a lot of time together, because Ellie looks up at him adoringly. Little girls don’t naturally adore people, do they? She didn’t, but, maybe she wasn’t like most little girls.

 

“Does your uncle have you every weekend?”

 

“Every day,” Ellie replies slowly and Emma gets the sense of recent tragedy just by the way her tiny head turns to face Killian. He meets her with a frown and a sigh.

 

“Ellie’s in my care. I’m her sole guardian. It’s just the two of us.” And he didn’t have to say any of that, but he does. And it hurts him to, Emma can tell.

 

It would hurt her, too. She wonders what her life would have amounted to if she had a sibling to step in and help her out. Would things be different now? Would she still be wandering these aisles alone every Friday?

 

It’s a poisonous thing to wonder.

 

She should spend her time wondering if she overstepped her boundaries even asking.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

 

“My… My mommy and Daddy are gone.” Ellie explains even though she really doesn’t have to. Neither of them have to tell Emma anything, and yet they are. “They were in an…uhm… they were in an…ass-i-dent.”

 

“Accident.” Killian corrects a bit less sweetly as he has before. He must have realized this because seconds later he sets the milk jugs in the cart and runs his fingers through Ellie’s flowing hair before pressing a kiss to her crown. He spots the bag of donuts then, but appears too sincere to scold her for it. “It’s been a year, and we have a Friday ‘grocery shop’ routine. Apparently, you do as well?” He asks as he rolls the bag shut and tosses it to the back of the cart. He’s meticulously brushing the powder from Ellie’s hands, dress, chin all while maintaining eye contact with Emma.

 

His eyes have dimmed from the amused way he was first looking at her. She feels guilt settle in between her shoulder blades.

 

“You didn’t have to say anything.” Emma takes an unskilled step from the cart, almost rolling her ankle in the process.

 

“Right…” He sighs and she knows that sigh. It’s the sigh you give when you’ve just been pitied _. Oh, you’re a foster kid?_ —Sigh. _Oh, you’ve been to jail?_ —Sigh. _Oh, your parents are dead?_ —

 

“No” Emma practically shouts. She clears her throat out of sheer embarrassment. “No… I mean… No. I’m not pitying you. I… I don’t have a mommy or daddy either, Ellie. I never did.”

 

Ellie’s eyes widen exponentially. She parts are tiny, plump, adorable lips and Emma’s heart aches in the best way it ever has.

 

“You… that means you’re a queen.”

 

“Eloise—“

 

“No, Uncle Kilo!” She’s overly-excited and holding her hand up to stop him from interrupting her. “Emma…Swa…Swa…Swan! You’re a queen because you don’t have a mommy or daddy to rule your kingdom. Did you get corn-ated on your five-years birthday?”

 

“Fifth…coronated…Eloise!” Killian scolds her and she recoils into herself. “You’re giving Emma a sensory overload with your hand movements and loud talking. Calm down, please, love bug.”

 

“She’s alright.” Emma warns. “I’m sorry to break it to you, kid, but I’m not a queen. And I never celebrated any birthdays.”

 

“No?”

 

“No.” Emma shrugs with an apologetic smile, although deep down, the reminder of the lack of love she’s experienced makes her want to cry a bit.

 

“My birthday is July 3rd. Come to my party and we can both be corn… I mean… Core-Oh-Neigh-Ted. But… you have to dress up, okay?”

 

“Eloise… honestly?” Killian groans before lifting his niece into his arms. She absently leans into him but keeps her eyes on Emma.

 

“Honestly.” She replies. “Emma, it’s gonna be fun. All my friends are coming and you can bring all your friends, too!”

 

“Oh… that’s really nice of you, Ellie. You’re a sweetheart, honestly, but I—”

 

“No!” Ellie dismisses before Emma can even finish. “If it were not for my Uncle Kilo, maybe I would not ever have birthday parties. I’m very lucky. I want to share my luck.”

 

“That’s…really mature of you, actually. How old did you say you were turning?”

 

“Five.” Killian answers, holding his cheek to Ellie’s head. “She’s really mature and even more generous. I explained to her a while ago that some children grow up alone. My brother and I were orphaned as well, but he was old enough to raise me. We didn’t have the funds to celebrate birthdays either.”

 

“Which is sad.” Ellie frowns at the thought of it all.

 

“Right.” Killian nods against her hair. “Ellie wants to go as far as to donate all her presents to The Home for Little Wanderers.”

 

“They don’t get a lot of gifts.” Ellie shrugs. “I don’t have a mommy or daddy, but I have people who love me. Not every kid gets that.” Ellie frowns and Emma does right along with her this time.

 

Not every kid gets that.

 

“Say you’ll come Emma, please! We can share my party.”

 

“Ellie, that’s really sweet, but I think just you should be queen.” She tucks her hair behind her ears and looks to the floor for the confidence to turn down the first kid to ever like her. “You’re so sweet. I wouldn’t know how to begin being half as sweet as you.” Emma compliments and it makes Ellie smile brightly. There’s a warmth inside of her from doing so, and it’s the warmest she’s felt in a while.

 

It hits her then.

 

She wants this kid around. Not in a creepy abduction kind of way. She just wants a chance to know her. She wants to see her smile brightly because she’s spent some of the coldest years of her life avoiding children, never knowing what their smiles could do.

 

Ellie smiles and the sun rises. She smiles at her like she’s some hero, some girl dressed up as a princess at Disneyland. (Not that she’s ever been, but she’s seen pictures. They seem happy)

 

“Then you’ll come at least? It’s gonna have cake and uhm, other cakes. We are gonna have so much cake! Plus, you could meet all my friends. My friends are nice and they’d get to see how pretty you are. You’re so pretty and you look like a princess! You’d fit right in, please come?” The kid rambles on and it’s a bit overwhelming, but then Ellie’s reaching her hand out toward Emma, silently beckoning for some contact and the sudden need to never deny her anything is that much more overwhelming.

 

(She’s a little bit in love with this kid and it should be terrifying, but this is the safest she’s ever felt opening her heart to someone.)

 

Emma grabs her hand and nods. “If it’s okay with your uncle, I’ll definitely be there for you.”

 

“Oh, it’s okay for definite.” Killian grins slyly at her and she has to talk herself down from feeling anything. It’s one thing to let herself care for Ellie. She’s a child who is too little, too good to break her.

 

Killian makes her nervous, the type of nervous she gets when she spots potential. Not ‘boyfriend’ potential. She never spots that crap. This is a nerve-wrecking, knees-trembling kind of ‘worst-heartbreak-ever’ potential.

 

She knew from moment two, when he strolled into her space like he knew her deepest thoughts, this guy is dangerous. This guy is the type you’ll fall for if you let yourself.

 

And so of course she won’t let herself.

 

But then there’s the orphan thing. He knows what it’s like and she hasn’t had someone relate to that since…

 

_…Back up to the part where you’re not letting yourself, Emma._

 

So she backs up one more step, releasing Ellie’s hand, but the small hand is slow to drop. She looks at it like she’s done something wrong and it reminds Emma of a time she’s since forgotten.

 

“Then it’s settled. I’m going to your coronation,” Emma stands apart from them, her hands on her hips, decidedly nodding. “July 3rd?”

 

“Yup! It’s gonna be so much fun.” Her tiny shoulders shake with excitement and she turns to watch her uncle’s reaction. He’s still looking at Emma, watching her with something dangerous and confusing. Like he’s trying to figure her out and god knows she doesn’t want that. “Uncle Kilo?”

 

“Huh?” He shakes himself and meets his niece’s stare.

 

Ellie presses her forehead to his, stage-whispering to him about how he thinks she’s pretty too.  Emma lets herself smirk at that. And he catches it, almost instantly. A smile spreads across his own lips as he takes a step closer to her, Ellie’s forehead resting gently against his jaw now.

 

“What say we finish our shopping together? I just realized I’ve invited a complete stranger to my niece’s birthday party. Certainly can’t have that, right?”

 

“Emma’s not a stranger.” Ellie perks her head up ready to defend her new friend’s honor but Killian turns and winks at her with absolutely no subtlety. A very soft ‘oh’ leaves the kid’s lips before she’s wiggling in his hold to be set down. “I wanna walk next to Emma.” She explains and Killian sets her down gently. It’s a second, if that, before Ellie’s slightly dusty hand finds Emma’s.

 

“Well, I guess that’s settled, too.” Emma snorts, finding herself actually reveling in the sensation of holding a small hand in her own. Ellie beams up at her, swinging their arms together as they wait for Killian to join them.

 

“You’ll find that Eloise is excellent at helping you remember items on the list.” His voice is too low for them being in the presence of a child, but she shivers at it anyhow. He could make anything sound like sinning with his accent and tone.

 

—/—

 

“Three pints?” He’s judging her. He invited her on this expedition to judge her.

 

“Three.” Emma defends. “One for Friday, One for Saturday and one for Sun—”

 

“You’re telling me you digest three pints of ice cream and still look the way you do?”

 

“I love ice cream! Can I have ice cream on the weekends too?” Ellie’s hand is still wrapped in Emma’s, the other exploring the flavors she’s dropped into her arm basket. 

 

“Of course not.” Killian chuckles at Ellie. The little girl stares up at him with a frown before removing her hand from the pint of ‘New York Super Fudge Chunk.’ He matches her frown playfully and she breaks into a grin, shaking her head like they do this all the time.

 

“You don’t let your kid eat ice cream? What a hard-a— Uhm. butt. What a hard…butt.” Emma doesn’t know much about kids, but she’s learned that it’s impolite to swear in front of any that are not your own.

 

“Of course I do.” He laughs loudly at that one. “Just not three pints a weekend and Ellie knows that. Her teacher would call child protective services on me. It was bad enough when they asked me what kind of milk I give her.”

 

He lifts the basket from the crook of her elbow, placing it inside of his cart. The closeness, the way his fingers graze her arm forces her knees to quake again. He’s too attractive for them to be standing this close, and way too attractive for him to touch her without her body responding embarrassingly. She feels her heart sputter when he turns back around and watches her like he knows she’s on edge over him.

 

“Is… is that what you were doing with the milk jugs?” She laughs but it’s evidently a nervous laugh. She shouldn’t be nervous, guys do happen to touch her, kiss her, whatever from time to time. She’s not exactly a prude, but no guy is exactly him. He’s different and it’s awful and scary and she knows she should run away right now.

 

“I’m still new at this, ya know?” Killian groans a bit, running his hand through his hair and looking down at the cart. Both jugs are still in there. They must notice simultaneously because they break out in a loud chuckle together.

 

(Her mind lets her wander to where they do a lot of things together.)

 

“She’s in ‘mom’s groups’ and has playdates.” He begins after the laughter fades. “I’m an amateur. What do I know? So when they bring up things like ‘Good Housekeeping’ Magazine’s article on the ‘age old’ debate, I just listen intently and try to keep up. I can’t recall if there was one clear winner.”

 

He’s so young. Of course he’s unexperienced, but she wouldn’t have been able to tell because she’s not a mother. She has no experience with children. Ellie’s hand is the first to ever fit inside of her own and she’s afraid she’ll squeeze too hard and bruise it.

 

So she finds a tremendous amount of respect for him just beneath her surface. He’s attractive and flirtatious, but he is also an incredible father figure who tries as often as he breathes apparently. He deserves respect.

 

And maybe a chance, so when he asks for her number a few minutes later, she gives it to him. It’s with another close encounter of him breathing in the same air she’s claimed as her own. He has no problem disobeying personal boundaries. He’s close enough to smell when he hands her his phone to input her info.

 

(She’s not exactly sure why, but she makes it a point to catalog how he smells of cardamom and sea salt.)

 

When they part ways that day, it’s with a promise to annoy her with an overwhelming amount of questions regarding anything from cake flavors to her childhood heroes.

 

(She doesn’t have it in her to mention she knows little about either. She likes ice cream and grew up to be her own hero.)

 

—/—

 

She held off for seven days, but she’s cashing in on her ‘phone a friend’ lifeline. Mary Margaret, her closest friend, has been badgering her for the better half of a decade about her disinterest in men.

 

(It’s not that she’s not interested, she’s just not interested in what they’re interested in.)

 

She actually gushes, and it would be disgusting if they were, say, in public at a coffee house, but in the comfort of her brick walls, she thinks it’s acceptable.

 

_“Wait, Eloise? And Killian?”_

“Yeah?”

 

_“Remember the funeral service David and I attended, his fallen Hockey teammate and wife were in a fatal car accident?”_

 

“No…” Emma gasps at the connection. She doesn’t even want to get into the devastation that much have caused. She’s never had siblings to even imagine losing, but the idea of not having Mary Margaret or David in her life any longer, to lose them both at the same time…

 

_“Heart-wrenching. Killian and Elsa’s sister Anna held the service, but he did most of the talking, and apparently most of the planning. The women of my church reached out to him, and he attends their playdates and children’s birthday parties regularly.”_

“That’s unimaginable.”

 

_“He hasn’t actually dated since the accident, according to the word on the pew.”_

 

Emma hates when she uses the term ‘word on the pew’

 

“That’s more than likely untrue, he’s way too hot to be dateless for a year.”

 

_“So you admit he’s hot?”_

 

“Do I even need to? You’ve seen him.”

 

Whatever Mary Margaret replies with is muffled by the knocks on her bedroom door.

 

“Hey, hold that thought, and all the rest of them. I gotta go.”

 

Emma sighs at the idea of another awkward encounter with her roommate and hopefully ‘misses’ the goodbye on the other end. She’s left with a picture of Ryan Reynolds on her home screen when she stares down at her phone.

 

“No one ever says goodbye.” She mumbles as the banging on the door persists. “Come in”

 

The door swings open and in barrels a grungy-looking Lily.

 

They’d been foster friends. Both in the system, or so she thought, Lily had a family. One of the trillion lies Lily told. She thought better of moving in with her, but when plans fell through she bit the bullet and did it anyhow.

 

Now she’s stuck until the end of July in a lease, stuck with half of the rent always late and the fear that whatever she puts in the fridge won’t be there when she returns for it.

 

(She’s stuck with a constant female version of Neal, and she should have said no.)

 

“Em” Lily plops onto her bed, completely uninvited, but of course, sure, why not?

 

“Lily.”

 

“What are your plans this weekend? You haven’t ‘bunned-out’ yet.” Emma lets the silence stretch because Lily is an ass, and she needs a good 10-second glare to express that.

 

“Is that why you came in?” Emma finally says in an agitated exhale

 

“No. I came to tell you I’d be—”

 

“Short on the rent,” they say in unison.

 

“Right, how short?”

 

“A hundo… I can pay you back, of course.” Lily’s never paid back a dime.

 

“I guess it’s not that big of a deal, if you pay me back… of course.” Emma grins painfully because god knows kindness and sincerity gets you nowhere with her type.

 

“Yeah, I’ve been uhm, talking to my birth mom. I could cash in big on all the guilt this bitch carries.”

 

“Classy.” Emma snorts with irritation. Lily is a lowlife and the more time spent with her, the more appealing those months living out of her car seem.

 

“Yeah well, that’s my middle name.” Lily gives her signature fake grin before rising off the bed and seeing herself out of Emma’s room. “Thanks for covering that hundred.”

 

—/—

 

He texts her that night.

 

She’s halfway through the Half-Baked pint when her phone buzzes on the nightstand. She’s just barely stopped thinking about this guy, and now he’s texting her.

 

**K: “These two milks taste the damn same. I honestly don’t know which is better. How do I figure it out?”**

 

And she laughs the loudest she ever has before sending something she deems as ‘clever’ back.

 

**E: “Try dipping cookies in them. No one likes watery milk and cookies.”**

It’s at least five minutes before he replies.

 

**K: “You’re a genius. Whole Organic is the way to go.” She buries her face in her pillow, missing four key scenes of ‘The Proposal.’**

—/—

 

The next seven-day lineup isn’t too much different from the last, except he texts her almost every day of it. So, when she’s thinking about him constantly, she has a good excuse as to why.

 

Day two is a quick one-liner about the playgroup discussion and how he could provide insight on milk, but the conversation had moved onto public schools spraying for pesticides during the school year.

 

**K: Ellie doesn’t attend school until the fall, I have time to buy a child-sized gas mask, right?**

 

**E: You know, my best friend is a school teacher, I’ll ask her if the classrooms come equipped with them.**

 

Day three has something sweet hidden in a more than sarcastic message.

 

**K: I understand that you eat like a child whose parents left them home alone on the weekends, but you do eat healthy during the week, right? I worry that it’s true what they say about beautiful model-types. Prove me wrong, what’d you eat tonight?**

**E: Nothing yet. But this bag of pretzels is only like, a year old, and looks super appetizing.**

 

Let’s just say the conversation ends with disappointment on one front and embarrassment on the other.

 

It’s day five when he calls. He says something sappy, along the lines of “I almost forgot how attractive your voice was.” And she swoons like a school girl watching the N’Sync music video for ‘Bye-bye-bye.’ She tries to even her tone before actually replying.

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

_“You’re probably correct, Love.”_

 

The whole conversation orbits around her day at work and whether or not she’s allergic to any foods. He ends it by asking her address. He says he’ll send her flowers for occupying her evenings with his nonsense.

 

She thinks he’s getting sweeter with every time they talk. It’s dangerous to even let him talk to her, but hearing his voice on the phone is sort of intoxicating. The smiles he elicits with stupidly cute texts have her a little addicted. She never had a texting buddy like this before, one who manages to end every night the same way: hopeful.

 

And she should talk herself out of hoping right now, because every guy is going to fall down the same rabbit hole into nothingness that the others have. The path onto her heart is dangerously lined in sharp fragments of memories and jagged edges of broken dreams. He’d be best off staying far from it.

 

And then day six hits.

 

It’s been silent all day. The normal hour rolls around, right after he’s settled Ellie down for bed, but her phone doesn’t chirp in the slightest. And it’s really ridiculous how quickly she jumps to the negative. _He’s over you. You took too long; you’re not what he wants._

 

She’s in the middle of asking herself when the hell she decided she even wanted this guy when there’s a knock on her door. Her first thought is that Lily must have forgotten her key again. But Lily is actually home right now, so…

 

She opens the door and is greeted by a college-looking dude with a bad attitude and a gift bag large enough to fit a gourmet stand-mixer.

 

“Emma Swan?”

 

“Who’s asking?” because part of her will never get past the fear that someone’s waiting to fuck her life up, just outside her door.

 

“Killian Jones.” He hands her this crumpled piece of carbon-copied paper. “Sign this.” After initialing ‘ES’ as sloppily as possible, she shoves the paper back at him and snatches the gift bag.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Whatever.” he stalks down the hallway before her door is even halfway shut.

 

She texts him before anything.

 

**E: What the hell?**

**K: Did you even open it?**

**E: You said flowers?**

**K: We both know you’re not the flower-type. Open it.**

She opens it cautiously, pulling out at least twelve mix-matched tupperware containers of all shapes and sizes. Each one is labeled and dated with a ‘best-by.’ A few have ‘proper heating instructions’ and at the bottom of the bag there’s a handwritten note on ‘Jolly Roger Inc’ stationary.

 

_Swan,_

_After the accident, I had women of all walks of life littering these buggering plasticware meals at my door, on my desk at work, in Ellie’s cubby at preschool. They weren’t concerned with anything but whether we were ‘eating.’ Turns out they’ve passed along more to me than a few recipes, because I worry about your food intake. These should last you between ice cream pints. Or, at least until you allow me to feed you personally._

_Killian_

 

She loses her balance, colliding backward into the nearest counter for stability. All at once, she feels things, like deeply feels a need to be next to him, to hug him, to kiss him and thank him.

 

Mainly kiss him.

 

He’s sincere, and suddenly cares about her.

 

Which is why this has to end.

 

—/—

 

It’s Friday once more, but she’s not going to any fucking store. She’s not actually going anywhere but straight home after work, and she is getting in her pajamas and de-beautifying herself to the point of no return. She will not leave her room, other than to grab one of those handy little tupperware meals, because a girl’s gotta eat.

 

This is not the way things go with men: this cute, flirty banter through text, this exhaustingly frequent daydreaming. She’s not the women in the movies she watches. She’s built her life, her worth around not being the stereotypical girl who plays hard to get even though she has ‘butterflies’ and smiles stupidly to herself when his name flashes on her phone.

 

She can't help the butterflies. She clenches tightly whenever she feels them flutter but she really can’t help them.

 

Her phone dings with another message from him. She knows it's from him before she looks because he texts her nightly around this time.

 

**K: when are you going to let me take you out?**

 

He hasn't ever asked. He’s been sweet whenever he’s not being sly or charming. He's only ever smooth, never bold like this.

 

**E: when are you going to ask?**

Before she blinks after pressing send, her phone is buzzing in her hands.

 

“Hello?”

_“Go out with me.”_

 

“Doesn't sound like a question, not even a statement. How demanding?”

 

_“You are beautiful, you are funny and you are single as far as I know.”_

“Doesn't really express why I should say yes to you, though.”

 

_“Well, I'm all those things, too.”_ She shoved the phone to her chest to muffle the sound of her loud chuckling. He is definitely funny and she absolutely hates that about him.

 

“You're an idiot.”

 

_“A very handsome idiot who would want nothing more than to go out with you.”_

 

“Nothing more?”

 

_“Maybe something more. You would be able to supply that, too, however.”_

She laughs again, but gives him the satisfaction of hearing it. He shows his appreciation by snorting in return.

 

_“What's your answer, Love?”_

 

“Where? When? I mean, I can't say yes without knowing what I'm signing up for.”

 

_“Ellie has a recital next weekend. Now, that's not at all date-like, but she’ll be staying with her best friend, Alexandra that night. We could go for dinner?”_

“Dinner and ballet? You spoil me.”

 

_“Love, you’ve seen nothing, yet.”_

 

But that’s not true. She’s literally staring at something right now he’s done for her as she holds plasticware full of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. They’ve known each other two weeks and she’s seen enough to know that wherever this is going, she’s not going to survive it.

 

She needs to desensitize herself. He’s into her, it’s evident and she’s a little into him. Or, she’s a lot into him. Either way, she needs to make all of what she’s into turn solely physical. Nothing gets rid of an itch like scratching it.

 

“So, dinner with just you?”

 

_“Aye, just me.”_

 

“I think that’s something I could do.”


	3. Habits Resurrected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the Kudos, comments and bookmarks! Hope you enjoy this chapter, and once again, tremendous thanks to my beta RavenclawPianist!

Habits Resurrected

“Uncle Kilo!” He’s staring at himself in his bathroom mirror when Ellie comes bolting through the door. “Uncle Kilo!”

He thinks he read something about ‘parenthood meaning you never have a moment to yourself,’ and maybe he needed half a moment to pull himself together. He’s not the type to get nervous, but the idea of dating after a year is something to be nervous over. He’s allowed. 

“Yes Ellie?” He forces as much enthusiasm into his response as she had used storming in here. 

“Can you put my hair up? Member how it goes?”

“Yes.” He nods. Miss Ella, Ellie’s ballet teacher, had sent him three videos from youtube on how to make the ballerina bun required tonight. Ordinarily, she’s a dear and does everything for Ellie. However, she’s spearheading the performance tonight and barely has time to get her own daughter ready before the floodgates of responsibility open. 

It takes him three tries before he references the videos again. 

It takes him three videos before he calls for backup. 

It takes four minutes for his next door neighbor, Belle, to show up with a smile and a sincere ‘you tried.’

He wouldn’t call Belle and himself ‘best friends’ but he wouldn’t downgrade her to neighbor either. Few people know the true trials and tribulations of this last year with Ellie in his care. She’s one of them, through messed up outfit decisions, funky hair requests(Because honestly, what man has small enough fingers to twine hair into a ‘fishtail?’) and the art of making pancakes to perfection.

(She let him in on a secret with that one: squeeze bottles)

Either way, he always knows the day is saved when the recently widowed Isabelle French arrives at his door. 

“There! All done. Now you are one of the most adorable swans, Ellie Belly.” Belle coos and Ellie feigns modesty. 

“The prettiest swan I know is Emma. She’s coming tonight!” He thinks the wind accompanying the pace at which Belle turns her head toward him may cause a small tsunami off the coast of Taiwan. 

“Emma?”

“Did I forget to tell you about—”

“And after?” Belle’s grinning like a sideshow clown when she rises from her knees to walk toward him. “Are you going on a date, Killian Jones?”

“A date?” Ellie repeats, moving to sit beside Killian on his bed. She peeks at him quizzically before turning back to Belle. “A date is when two grown ups eat spaghetti in a restaurant? Like Lady and the tramp?”

“Those are dogs, Eloise.” She snaps her head back in his direction, scrunching her face in the most darling way. 

“Grown up dogs. And sometimes when we go to eat, I see two people eating spaghetti the same way.” Ellie explains very passionately. “Are you gonna take Emma for spaghetti after the show?”

“No.”

“What are you going to do on your date?” Belle leans back against the wall alongside the door of the room. She rests the brush in her hand on his dresser, slightly pressing Elsa’s silver music box to the side, and the saddest tune peeps momentarily. “Oh, I thought you had to open these to hear them.”

“Anytime you move it, it starts. It’s a very old thing.” He smiles sadly before wrapping Ellie in his arms for comfort. “On our ‘date’ which is not a word I wish to use, I will be eating dinner with Emma, but it will not be spaghetti. I’m taking her to get sushi.”

“Sushi?” Ellie’s eyes are gleaming as she leans into him. “I love sushi. Emma is gonna be so escited!” 

“I hope so.” He lightens when she’s rubbing her hand over his and smiling hopefully at him. “I think she’s more excited to watch you dance though.”

“Then we should not keep her waiting.” Ellie slips down from his knees and darts out of the bedroom, calling back a stern ‘Let’s go’

“She’s going to be great.” Belle stares out into the living room after Ellie for a moment before turning back and meeting Killian’s gaze. “And so are you, Killian. I’m glad it’s finally happening.”

“What’s happening?”

“Killian…” She wears this grin like one of those silly dwarves from Snow White, the one that’s doe-eyed and foolish. “Your will to get back out there.” She shoves his shoulder as he gapes in horror at the term. 

“Out where?” She chuckles at the disdainful way he asks. 

“You’re a stubborn man, Killian Jones. I hope this Emma has horns twice as big as yours.” With that Belle exits to the living room to bid goodbye to Ellie. 

He can overhear her soft, sweet words and he’s thankful. He’s thankful that although he feels alone at times, Eloise has had a team of people protecting her heart all the while. He walks through the doorway to find them crouched by the door. Ellie appears to be in the middle of slipping on her rain boots.

(She has this uncanny fascination with them and he doesn’t have the heart, or strength to tell her no over it.)

“I wish you could come, Belle.” Ellie sighs “But I’ll show you the pictures when I come home tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait, Ellie Belly. Break a leg.”

There’s a tiny gasp and it’s up for ‘cutest Ellie moment of the week’ when followed by ‘why would you say that?’

“Well, you don’t tell performers ‘good luck’ because it’s legend to give them bad luck.” Killian explains, walking over and plopping down beside Ellie to help her tuck her tiny feet into the lavender and green rubber shoes. 

“So you say ‘break a leg’ because it seems like the worst luck you could wish someone about to walk on stage.” Belle picks up where Killian left off. 

“Noooo” Ellie giggles. “The worsest luck is going on nudie, or ass-i-dently wetting yourself. That’s awful luck, right Uncle Kilo?”

“Well, it’s never particularly happened to me, but I’m sure.” He chuckles lightly “It’s terrible luck, I’m certain. It also sounds mildly awkward to say to someone before they go on stage. ‘Oh, Eloise, forget your clothes in the dressing room’ or ‘Hey Belle, wet yourself’” The obnoxiously masculine tone he uses has Ellie in stitches. He can tell she’s nervous by how hysterically she’s laughing and laying across him, covering her cheeks with her tiny hands and squeezing her eyes shut. 

She’s got a case of the sillies. 

It’s common at this age, so say the books. He never wants to scold her, but they really don’t have time for a 20 minute adventure down jabberwocky road.

“Uh oh.” Killian whispers and she rolls her body, twisting and turning until she can see his face. She’s still grinning from ear to ear. “We’re not going to have time to pick Emma up if you have an episode.”

“No!” Ellie leaps up from her spot and folds her arms, staring Killian down with her signature squinted-eye frown. “Uncle Kilo, we’re gonna be late, let’s go.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to make you wait, my love.”

“It’s okay but we gotta go. Emma’s gonna be waiting for us, you know?”

Belle nods with an impressed smirk, mouthing ‘nice’ as Ellie skirts about grabbing her ballet bag and swan feather headband. 

He didn’t know at the starting gate what ‘the sillies’ were and how they could be avoided, but he handled this one in under a minute. So maybe there are those moments after all where he should pat himself on the back.

—/—

The ride to Emma’s leaves Killian and Ellie both trying to get their nerves out. Ellie more or less suggests singing at the top of their lungs with the windows down. It helps, he won’t admit it, but it helps to just be silly, and he knows she needs it, too.

By the time they arrive, the self-doubt is at bay, and Ellie has simmered down tremendously as well. 

He offers to get out and meet Emma at her door, but she says she doesn’t think it’s necessary to unbuckle Ellie and do all that. 

He wants to be a proper gent here. This isn’t just some date. He’s had this woman on his mind nonstop for weeks now and it’s the first woman to catch his thoughts in over a year. It’s important he do this right. She appears on the steps of her building, looking like a vision in blue jeans and a black sweater and her hair flowing freely behind her shoulders. She storms down the steps as he’s awaiting just outside his truck to greet her. 

“You are not one of those soccer moms who buys a nine-seater for one kid, are you? Because I can go back upstairs.” He knows the Suburban is a bit much, but it was rated safest family vehicle for the last three years. If there’s an accident, they’ll have a better survival chance. 

He won’t mention that to her. Rule number one: Do not mention grief on the first date. 

“No.” He feigns offense. “I bought it because it makes me feel like I’m carting around the president. I wear suits often, and Ellie is just as precious cargo.”

“Cute.” She steps into his space, wrapping her arms around his waist. It takes him four seconds to realize it’s a hug, but by the fifth second he’s soaking in all that is Emma Swan. Her honey scent resurfaces, much stronger this time. Her body is pliant against his, and he thinks they could fit together real well in every physical aspect. “Thank you for the food. That was very sweet.”

He starts to say something slick, or flirty, something that doesn’t clue her into how nervous he was she would take that poorly but there’s a tapping behind him that distracts him, and before he realizes, the hug is over. 

Ellie taps against her window a few times before remembering how to roll it down. 

“EMMA!” She cheers. “We missed you.”

“Yeah?” She moves around him to lean against Ellie’s door. Her voice is timid yet again, disbelief showing through the tender way she watches Ellie. He wonders if she’s ever felt the love of a child, because she’s acting as innocent as one now. “I missed you.” It’s meek, but she reaches her hand though the window, brushing her knuckles across Ellie’s jaw and it melts his heart instantly. 

He wants to hug her again. 

Or, other things, too.

“We should go, I’m gonna be late.”

“She’s a very punctual four-year-old.” Emma snorts. Killian rushes to open her door for her, agreeing with a nod and eye roll. 

“She’s a lot of things at age four that I’ll never be in my entire life.”

—/—

She’s a beautiful dancer for being so young. Emma notes this as the music of ‘Swan Lake’ brings out the younger ballerinas. Ellie is not the only blonde, but her eyes are hypnotizing under the stage light and it makes her stand out. She’s seen toddlers in tiaras once or twice, but this is a world all it’s own. It’s not something she ever imagined, kids too young for school dancing like professionals. 

Of course it’s nothing insane, but the posture, the seriousness, the hair and makeup, the venue they rented for this thing; it’s very much so insane. 

And so are the parents in attendance. She’s wearing freaking jeans for crying out loud and these women are dressed to the nines like they’re attending the opera. She looks back in surprise that there wasn’t a red carpet rolled out with some condescending member of the Fashion Police asking ‘what are you wearing’ in which she would reply ‘Target.’

The only saving grace is that Killian went casual too, with his (always) partially-buttoned dress shirt and dark wash jeans. Meanwhile, the few father’s that are here are dressed in suits and ties. 

She supposes, if for nothing else, at least they match with their casual wear. 

“I should have known it would be so formal.” He leans close, giving her every little hint of his scent again. She revels in the spice of him, the nearness. It all fuels her want to finish this how she should. 

(It’s evident she wouldn’t belong in this world anyhow.) 

“Are you around these people often?”

“Half of them work for me.” There’s nothing pompous in his tone. It’s a quick little informative tip before he continues on. “I may have sent a mass email to all the ones with children when I first enrolled Ellie in the dance school.”

She smirks at that, that stupidly attractive element he has about him, simply because he’s a single ‘father’ who cares about his child. It’s one of the sexiest attributes she’s ever found in a man, and more over, the absolute most apparent reason she is battling herself over whether or not to trust him. 

He’s peeking at her through dark eyelashes, his baby blues just as hypnotizing as Ellie’s, and she knows she will trust him, if she lets herself. 

“Seeing you in person again, after two weeks…” She didn’t think he could possibly get any closer, but his hand rests on her knee, and he’s way past his own armrest now. She feels tremors of energy and some type of cosmic chemistry surging from his featherlight fingertips through her veins. She meets his eyes head on in the darkened theatre. “…I realize that my memory just wasn’t doing you justice.”

This smooth fucker has her wanting to kiss him right here, right now. And she hates herself for actually panning down to his lips. 

“Hmmm.” She hums before turning away. Her body has entered this state of hyper-awareness. She can feel his breath lightly dusting her jawline as he exhales, she feels every fingertip as he slides his hand from her knee. “Hard to believe you’d spend every night talking to someone you don’t remember being attracted to.”

His hand resurfaces along her cheek as he slowly tucks hair behind her ear. 

“Do not mistake me, I remember you being very attractive. I just forgot how badly it affected me.”

Between her shuddering response and drumming desire, she’s not sure she’ll surviving this night without going home with him.

—/—

They greet Ellie afterward, she’s brightly skipping hand in hand with her little friend, as if they weren’t just dancing in four different numbers. The stamina children possess is frightening. 

It’s a quick introduction: ‘This is Allie, my bestest friend. She’s coming to my party, too.’ 

And Allie is beautiful and blonde like Ellie, but she doesn’t quite evoke the same warm and fluffy feeling Ellie does. Ellie does something completely different to Emma. She… it’s almost like she leaves her with a peace she hasn’t had since she was seventeen. It’s like children can be happy even after heartbreak and it’s something Emma needs to learn, even now, as an adult. 

Allie wears a different kind of innocence in her eyes. Where Allie is untouched, Ellie is unfazed, and Emma thinks that’s a bit more impressive. It’s something for which she, even now at age 25, should strive. 

She watches in awe of Killian as he lays down the ‘sleep-over law’ to Ellie. He mentions ‘being good’ and ‘I’m only a phone call away’ like all the parents in movies do. It’s when she tells him that she loves him to the moon, and he replies ‘I love you to whole new universes’ that Emma loses her head. 

She’s entered into this world of rose-colored lenses. He is suddenly unflawed and too perfect. She begins to build a fictional life around him in her head, saving all the finer details for late nights where she can’t sleep. 

Then Ellie hugs her ‘goodnight’ and it’s really not hard to think about what this would look like followed through. 

In a perfect world, she’d be just as much in Ellie’s life as his. In a perfect world she’d be his soon, all the attraction and chemistry was there already. She wouldn’t have to fear of what terrible things would be waiting just around the corner. She wouldn’t have to worry about broken promises and broken hearts. 

But this world is full of imperfections, and even the most handsome and sincere are flawed. 

She still hugs Ellie tightly. It’s the first time a child has hugged her since she was a child herself. She’s completely infatuated with the affectionate nature this kid possesses. It’s pure and heartfelt. When they pull apart, Ellie whispers that she’s happy Emma came and realizes just how happy she is about it, too.

—/—

The happy cloud doesn't end when they get to the restaurant. They’re actually much more into each other than any first date should be. His hand sets on her lower back, guiding her in. He wraps his arm around the back of her chair when they’re seated at the bar and what should feel uncomfortable and unfamiliar actually feels like a safe wall of protection with a longstanding relationship.

They entered their own world now. 

She’s laughing every other second and he hasn’t stopped smiling long enough for her to remember what his ‘serious’ face looks like. The chef (‘Itamae’ as Killian explained) crafting the sushi rolls comments on what a ‘passionate’ couple they appear to be. It throws her off a bit, because they aren’t exactly touching or anything, and when he asks how long they’ve been together, Killian only smirks wider and replies ‘third year anniversary.’

She would normally run whether he was joking or not.

But she doesn’t and it scares her shitless how unafraid she is by his comment. 

Sure, it’s all in fun, so she goes with it, leaning into his touch and letting him feed her rolls. 

“Ellie can handle chopsticks better than that, love.” He teases after she’s tried to return the favor, and failed miserably. She dropped a dragon roll on his lap in an attempt to get the thing in his mouth. There’s a little eel sauce stain in the crotch of his jeans, but he takes it with a smile(She absentmindedly went to clean it, and he let her attempt, watching with a dangerous eye and bated breath).

“You take your four-year-old for sushi?”

“Nothing raw, in fact her favorites are the vegetable rolls, which I couldn’t be more pleased with.” He catches himself smiling affectionately and apologizes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be bringing up kids on a date.”

“Don’t apologize.” She presses her hand over his, intertwining their pinkies like she’s in a longterm relationship and it’s ‘their’ thing. “The single dad thing is actually working for me.”

“Is that so?” A look much more wicked appears in his eyes. He slides his tongue over his bottom lip and leans in closer. “So, you’re currently being ‘worked’ by me?” The low timber of his voice is shiver-inducing.

Before she can reply, the servers bring out flutes of champagne and a dessert for two. Chocolate lava cake sits on a designer plate, with a raspberry sauce scribbled beside it to make out the words ‘happy anniversary.’

She doesn’t want to laugh, but this uncontrollable whooping chuckle drums from the back of her throat. He’s beaming brightly at the sound, but she’s never been more embarrassed by the weird happenings of her body. 

The first server motions for them to blow out the single candle centered in the lava cake. Killian slides the plate closer to her, gaging her reaction time and they manage to do it together like any in-sync couple would. 

It’s when the chef and servers repeatedly request that they ‘kiss, kiss, kiss’ that things truly get out of control. 

With a raised brow, he asks her comfort level with all this wordlessly. She shrugs and moves in 20 percent. He was already pretty close, so it feels like a full 40. If she had to comment on this moment later on, she’d explain how she truly believed this would only pan out to be a fling. She hadn’t expected anything more, or anything too intimate. 

But he’s obviously an expert at intimacy, even capable of performing under pressure. 

He tucks loose hairs that ordinarily frame her face behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her jawline as he comes to a full 75 percent. His mouth is a short inch from hers, but he’s not done cataloguing the features of her face. He’s doing it with so much tenderness and care, she wonders if she’s an amnesiac and perhaps this is actually her husband of three years, because his touch just whispers…

…There are words you don’t say on a first date, even if they’re in your head and entirely fictional. 

He drags his thumb across her lip. It’s sensual and all too romantic for her to silence her heartbeats now. It’s when he anchors his hold on her at her chin that he gently brings her the last ’5’ percent. And if a barely-there press of his lips has her hearing rocket ships launching from galaxies away, she’s devastatingly afraid of what she’ll feel when he’s giving it his all. 

It’s over much quicker than it began, but the way her body involuntarily chases his as he pulls away will be immortalized in her mind forever. She’s afraid to open her eyes right after. She’s afraid to meet his and see nothing. 

But what she’s most afraid of is how badly it scares her that she’ll see nothing there, because she is the one who is not supposed to feel. 

“Looks like true love,” the chef says before returning to the other side of the bar to serve the other diners. She stares at the empty space he’s left in his place. 

“That’s not exactly how I would have planned our first kiss to go.” Emma meets Killian’s eyes, because he sounds too apologetic for her not to. His blue eyes match the tone of voice, watching and waiting for her reaction. 

“I mean, it was going to happen one way or another, right?” She doesn’t mean to make her laugh sound so dry, but she’s can’t gage how she truly sounds, because her ears are still humming a bit. 

“Do tell me, Love, what else was ‘going to happen’ tonight?” His small uncertainty is a distant memory now. He’s back to his flirtatious self. 

She’s learned between car rides and conversation, whatever doubt he holds is fleeting. He’s not forthcoming with actual emotions, and it’s alright, she’s the same way; but when these little glimpses of the man behind the smooth exterior appear, she needs to catalogue them quickly, if she ever wants to know more than one of his dimensions. 

Although, she’s not supposed to be here to learn any other dimensions than the physical one. That’s what she told herself all week. Now, here it’s been all evening and her mind and body are abandoning her heart’s strict instruction. 

They’re about to enter the fourth quarter of this match, and she’s not letting herself lose sight again. 

“Let’s finish dessert, and we’ll see.”

—/—

He’s completely sober, but the fuzziness within him has him believing otherwise. 

They’re walking to the car hand-in-hand, her hand so warm and well-fitting with his own. He thinks things are going too well, and although he doesn’t want to muck it all up by rushing into anything too soon, he desperately doesn’t want this night to end. 

He’s infatuated with her. She has him completely transfixed every time she looks at him, every time she laughs. His heart hasn’t felt this light since the accident, and it’s all to do with the beauty walking beside him. There’s no way he wants to rush into this. 

Although, much like a child charging through a waterpark, he wants to run through with his eyes closed, soaking up every extraordinary feeling this woman elicits. It’s a quarter till ten at night, but he’s watching the sunrise in her eyes, with the mirthful way she’s staring back at him. 

“Thanks for taking me out, you know, for our anniversary, honey.” She jokes as they reach the car. He’s in the process of reaching for her door, when she lines her body up against it, facing him with a playful smirk.

“Ah, well, anything for you, Love” he sways closer into her space, an opportunity arising in his mind’s eye. Tapping his lip, he adds “Perhaps some gratitude is in order.” The amusement in her eyes dials down into a more dangerous emotion: lust.

“Yeah…” she’s moving a tad bit closer, not enough to justify him just kissing her now. “that’s what the ‘thank you’ was for.”

“Well, is that really all a date with your ‘true love’ is worth to you?”

She hadn’t seemed flighty until this very moment. He knew she was guarded right off the bat. This flickering fearful look in her eyes tells so much more. It’s almost as if he can see the little girl she use to be flinch behind layers of her outer appearance. 

Somehow he’s mistaken, because she surges forward a second or two later, hands clenching at the lapels of his leather jacket. She’s pulling him down to her and attacking his lips in the most sinfully appreciative way. Much better than any ‘thank-you’ he’s ever gotten.

But he’s not too much a fool to realize she’s not actually thanking him, so much as keeping him from reading her inner most workings. 

She’s guarded, but he is too, so it’s all right. 

It’s when her lips slide over his feverishly, when the intensity speeds clear past ‘first date’ perimeters, that things get less right than they should. 

He’s never been torn in two like this; his mind is saying ‘slow down’ but his body is shouting for him to shove her against the car and devour her. His hand anchors itself in her thick, silky hair when she opens her mouth against his. He doesn’t hesitate to do the same, despite how clouded his head is. 

He can taste the chocolate on her tongue and knows every cake, cookie or cup of cocoa is going to taste like her from here on out. 

The way she ends it is an abrupt tug from his lips, her body almost sagging against him as her balance wavers. She’s still pressing their foreheads together, still grasping at the lapels of his jacket, still allowing the nearness he craves. 

Her words stumble out against his lips “take me home.”

He’s trying to understand why she wants to leave now, after that kiss, how could she just need to run home. 

She adds a ‘with you’ and it all becomes so clear. 

He lifts his head, opening his eyes to watch hers remain closed. 

“Emma?” she’s slow to respond, but when she does, he doesn’t see nearly as much desire as he thought he would. She stares up at him with something precarious. 

“Your place, mine. It doesn’t matter.” She’s dropped her gaze from his, burying her face into his collarbone and mumbling. “I just want you.”

He doesn’t know how to respond. He wants to agree, but he also knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t want to sound as weary as he feels and he definitely is not interested in making her think for a second that he doesn’t want her. 

Then he hears a lecture he’s long since forgotten. 

He had slept with a past lover on the first date. Their relationship never amounted to more than sneaking around and for the life of him he wasn’t understanding why. 

Liam’s words rung true. ‘Sex on the first date is for people who don’t plan on a second.’

Elsa may have added in a bit about women willing to waste potential if the ‘oh wow’ feeling isn’t present. 

But he kissed her in the restaurant, and her heart pounded aloud ‘oh wow, oh wow, oh wow’ right along with his own.

“Don’t for a moment believe I don’t want you.” His thumb finds it’s favorite spot, pressing gently into the dimple of her chin, guiding her eyes to meet his. “But I believe sex on the first date is only suggested when you don’t want a second.”

She’s silent as she watches his eyes read her. 

“Emma, will you go out with me again?” Maybe she sees the fear in his eyes clear as day. He sees that flighty gleam in hers once more, and it resonates through his gut like a sword striking nerves. 

She nods anyhow, leaning forward and pecking his lips tenderly. She pulls back and meets his eyes with something more certain than before. “Of course. You’re right. We should wait.”

Relief floods from him in a deep exhale and she smiles, weakly at it.

“I should get you home, before temptation strikes again.” Or he loses his charm completely. 

“Sure.” 

—/—

She doesn’t laugh again the whole drive to her apartment. She barely looks in his direction. She’s colder now, not rude, or closed-off but the words between them don’t flow as easily.

He wanted this, with eager hands and combative will. He’s known her for such a short amount of time, but her impression on him is everlasting. He’s not ready to just give up. 

They arrive at her apartment, he gets out, but she’s already opened her own door and is slowly walking toward the steps. 

Everything was going great. Now it’s this and he wants to rewind, figure out the exact time he fucked up. 

“Did I say something to make you change your mind about me?” She’s not even shocked by the question. She turns slowly, no evident concern on her otherwise gorgeous features. 

“No.” she shrugs. “I haven’t changed my mind. I like you, Killian.” He’s never had someone confess feelings for him so nonchalantly before. 

“That’s reassuring.” he frowns, stalking over to just about where she’s standing. “Because I really like you, and would like to keep seeing you.”

“You don’t think…” She groans, raking her fingers through her hair, tugging at the windblown ends as she searches the pavement for answers. He’s known her three weeks, and knows the difference between her meekness and her insecurity. 

This is neither. 

This is the stance she takes when she doesn’t want to watch the way her words affect someone. 

“Emma?”

“Don’t you think that… never mind.” She finally meets his eyes. “It’s dumb. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Tell me.” He takes two small steps toward her, his hands reaching for her waist, and she lets him pull her forward at least. 

“It’s nothing, really.” She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer.

“You know I want almost nothing more than to take you upstairs and finish what we started, don’t you?” 

“Almost?” She presses her cheek against his, hugging him like he’ll be off to war in the morning.

“I want a fair shot at this more.” he explains. “It’s the only reason we’re still both down here.” He feels her nod and sigh before pulling away with a sleepy smile. They’ve talked on the phone later than this, so he can’t assume she’s all that tired, but she runs a hand through his hair and kisses his cheek before taking a step away. 

“You’ll call?”

“Without a doubt.”

He’s left there watching the entry door of her building for what feels like hours. When he finally does leave to head home, it’s after silently berating himself for somehow screwing this up.

He calls her when he gets home, twenty minutes later but she doesn’t answer. 

—/—


	4. Goals Projected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, thanks once again for all the love and attention on this! I’m so incredibly grateful for each and every shred of attention this gets.
> 
> Second on the agenda, I got a few questions about Ellie’s birthday party/ Coronation. At the end of this chapter, we’ll only be in the first week of May. So, there’s another two months before her birthday and a few more chapters.
> 
> Finally, thanks a million to RavenclawPianist for being my beta on this piece!
> 
> And thanks for reading!

**Goals Projected**

 

She hasn’t answered his calls, and she’s been delaying response to his texts since the date. It’s been about four days, and each night ends the same: self depreciation and take-out.

                                                           

He asks her if he should ‘stop trying’ in one text. She battled with herself for hours on whether or not she should say ‘yes.’ Her head gave in, allowing her heart to speak for a second.

 

**_E: I like you, I do. I meant that, I just… I’m trying to figure things out._ **

**_K: Sure. Let me know when you do._ **

****

And with that came a radio silence on his end, of course she hadn’t provoked otherwise because she hasn’t reached out to him.

 

She knows she wants to see him again when it’s been five days. Hell, she knew at two, but she’s stubborn and the idea of being around someone who has insane effects on her is terrifying.

 

She doesn’t want to get hurt. She doesn’t want to wait until the day he realizes she’s not worth the effort. She wants to prove right now, she isn’t worth any effort. She wants—

 

She wants him.

 

She wants him so badly because she knows he’s more than she deserves already.

 

He’s a lot more than she deserves actually, and that’s why she doesn’t want to risk it.

 

She risks calling him. It’s the middle of the day, she’s getting lunch for herself and her partner, August. She thinks it would be cute, something like ‘Guess whose making sure to eat?’

 

But he doesn’t answer.

 

She gets too bummed to leave a message. She just turns her phone off, she can’t wait by it if it’s not on, right?

 

She slides it into her glove compartment for safe keeping before walking back into the office with the food.

 

“Anything new?”

 

“You’ve been gone 27 minutes.” _August._ Scruffy ol’ August.

 

He was Emma’s parole officer, when she was barely eighteen and she got let out he was to ‘watch’ her every move. Emma rode the strait and narrow for the eighteen-month parole. They sentenced her for 29 months, one for each watch unreturned. The judge thought it would teach her a lesson, but the lesson was learned the minute she was handcuffed.

 

Never trust anyone. 

 

Somehow she learned to trust August, to an extent of course. They’d spent a great while together the last seven years. He’s one of the few people in this world who knows her secrets. She didn’t tell him, she doesn’t trust anyone to tell them that, but he held her file, and learned. She does trust him well enough to have started a ‘recovery’ agent business together a few years back.

 

He’s also a mathematical genius, so she trusts his ability to calculate everything technical in order to catch their target.

 

“Does anyone find your preciseness attractive?”

 

“You were much happier before you left.” He rolls his neck to watch her from the slouched position of his office chair. His feet are on the desk, just beside the monitor where he’s going over surveillance.

 

“A lot can happen in 27 minutes, which brings me back to my first question: Anything new?”

 

He watches her like she’s sitting on the other side of a two-way mirror waiting to be interrogated. Of all the things she’s capable of dealing with, talking about Killian isn’t one of them right now.

 

She doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t even know what she feels toward this situation.

 

He asks her anyway.

 

“Is this about that grocery store guy?”

 

“Killian.”

 

“Right, what’s his story?” He’s nonchalant now, turning his head from her and back to the monitor.

 

“Pretend you didn’t google him the minute I mentioned a date last week.” She challenges. “Go on, act like you don’t know his story better than I do.”

 

“I’d rather eat.” He doesn’t look at her, and she has half a mind to throw his burger at the back of his head. She settles for pulling her sandwich out and dropping the sack on his desk. She gets even by only getting _herself_ a coke from the fridge.

 

It takes a minute for her to clear her desk before she has a proper eating space. They’d been working on this guy for a few months. It was her first international case with a pay off so big she can move into her own place.

 

Hopefully she’ll keep it cleaner than their office space.

 

“I take it your date went just awful.”

 

“Best first date ever, actually.” Emma mumbles through turkey and bacon bits. After a hard swallow and a swig of soda she has enough room in her mouth for the explanation. “But you know I don’t actually date.”

 

“Except first dates, which you do more frequently.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You go on a lot of first dates.”

 

“Half of them are honey-traps. The rest are at the request of Mary Margaret. This was the first date that happened…organically.”

 

“Oh.”

 

It's not the most enthusiastic sound he’s made. If she didn't know better, she'd just assume he didn't care.

 

But she knows better.

 

She knows August cares that whoever she does ‘eventually’ get involved with won't leave her hanging in the same disastrous way men have in the past.

 

 

One man, one very shady, very terrible man who she gave her heart to, once, and got handcuffed in return.

 

"Emma, you could always go out with him again, bend your rules, break your rules.”

 

“I thought you were against breaking the rules.”

 

“These rules should be broken.” He frowns, tossing a few pickles into the trash. “You can't think straight and I really don't want to suffer because you are.”

 

“Pickles are hardly suffering.” She scoffs, “besides, you can always go out and get your own burger next time.”

 

“Why would I do that? You're the best burger fetcher around, when your head is clear, that is.” He leans forward, dropping his feet and nearly his lunch as his blue eyes widen at the screen. “Got ‘em.”

 

It's a few minutes of loud clacking against the keyboard, grumbling and then over-exaggerating self praise; but finally August confirms that he has a way of tracing ‘William Cyrus Knavelson’ to a ‘Will Scarlet.’

 

“In mere weeks, we’ll be getting the biggest payout of our careers.” August is grinning to himself as Emma contemplates less complication in her life by living alone. She is stupid for the thought, she knows, but her mind wanders to a kitchen where Killian brings Ellie over for dinner. She lets herself consider getting a second bedroom, just in case.

 

—/—

 

This little red ‘Emma’ on his call log makes for an awful afternoon. He has so much work to do because he’s taking tomorrow off to register Ellie for school, get her the booster shots and possibly prep another twelve meals for the woman of his dreams. He has so much bloody work to do, but he sits for another hour staring at the missed opportunity, lined in red.

 

“Hey.”

 

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t need to. There’s one person who would have been permitted past that barrier simply because his assistant is too frightened to say no.

 

“Get out, Locksley.”

 

“No.” The chair in front of his desk suddenly holds a very petulant-looking Robin Locksley. He’s a decade older than Killian, but he looks just like his four-year-old son when he behaves this way.

 

“Are you pouting?”

 

“We can both behave as children, you know? I’ve learned some of my best facials from Roland.”

 

“I’m not behaving like a child.” Killian growls, and he can actually feel the weight of his eyebrows furrowing, actually understand the comment. He’s quick to smooth his features. “Why are you here?”

 

“I work here.” The frown is quickly replaced with this stupid, smug grin that he and Liam mastered in unison.

 

Robin Locksley is Liam’s oldest comrade, and business partner. When the money came in, Liam sent this man a plane ticket and cleaned up Killian’s bedroom in their family home. He was away at school and Robin was mere months into the grieving process over his wife’s death. Liam gave him the feel or a family again, and a new adventure to shake away the old memories.

 

They started Jolly Roger Inc from the bottom up and when Liam died, Killian argued that Robin should just run it. He was merely a design project manager at the time, he knew nothing about running corporations. Robin refused, said that Liam left him in charge for a reason. _‘Never go against Liam’s reasoning.’_

 

“Robin?”

 

“Smee called Ruby to gossip. You know how those two are.”

 

“Wonderful assistants we have.” Killian finally settles his phone on the desk and meets Robin’s eyes head on. “Did he explain the course of the evening, too?”

 

“No, said he’d save that for their lunch break.” Robin leans forward, offering his best ‘Liam Face,’ the one where his lips straighten, brokering no quarter, and his jaw clenches just before he delivers the most philosophical line of the century. Killian hates that bloody face, and he hates it even more when it’s not coming from his brother.

 

(He hates most that it will never come from his brother again.)

 

“You know you can’t just sit and mope over a lass, don’t you?” His accent comes out in full force, launching Killian back to the UK, his boyhood, his unrelenting way of surviving. “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.”

 

“Listen, I’m not moping, for a start. Let’s get that very clear, and tell your meddling assistant as much.” Killian warns, all the teenage fury he use to reserve for his brother during these ‘talks’ is out in full force as well. “Furthermore, on the Emma-front, how do you suggest I do that, we’ve been on one date, any added effort will make me appear psychotic.”

 

“Did she express disinterest?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did she express interest, then? Did she tell you she fancied you?”

 

“Yes, she did, for your information. She told me twice,” The smug way he grins has him feeling much better already.

 

Emma Swan _likes_ Killian Jones. He has it in textual writing. He can send it to an attorney to help him plea his case on why there should not only be a second date, but a number of dates leading to possibly one of the most amazing relationships he’s ever been in.

 

“Well, there you have it, Monsieur. Get over yourself and get back to work, I.E. let people come into your office. You have several employees waiting to speak with you over design aspects I want no part of.”

 

“This whole thing was because someone asked you a grain question, wasn’t it?”

 

“I told you, mechanism, not design.” He expresses, pressing his hand over his heart like it’s a vow set in stone.

 

“Get out of my office, Locksley.”

 

Robin is a lot of things, but it’s only on occasion that ‘right’ falls under them.

 

He calls her phone for the third time since her missed call. It’s still straight to voicemail, but this time, he bucks up and actually leaves one.

 

“Emma, it’s Killian. I saw that you called. Now, so have I. In the words of Eloise, uh, ‘Tag, you’re it.’ Give me a call when you get this.” Now he can obsess over how idiotic that was for the next few hours, but at least his doubts about her liking him are relieved.  

 

—/—

 

The morning leaves him cranky, as sleepless night tends to do so. Emma never called back, and it’s upsetting; but Ellie is in a bubbly mood for knowing she has to get a series of shots.

 

Then again, she handles her own pain much better than he. A few months ago, she had to get her throat swabbed for strep. She gagged a little and he almost cried like she was being tortured. Last year she had to get an IV after a scary allergic reaction to blueberries, the sight of the needle made him nauseas and anxious all at once.

 

“After, can we buy special Band-Aid’s if maybe they don’t have pretty ones?” He peeks in his rearview mirror to see her scribbling in her ‘boats’ coloring book.

 

“What kind of Band-Aids do you want, love bug?”

 

“Like, really pretty ones.” She replies seriously.

 

“With princesses?”

 

“No.” it’s short and dry and unlike Ellie.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Cause I’m gonna be a queen. I need Band-Aids with queens or no royals at all, Uncle Kilo, I’m sorry but that’s the deal.”

 

“Well excuse me, your highness.”

 

It’s silent for another few minutes, just enough time for him to reach a red light and look back at her. She’s stopped coloring and is fidgeting with the ends of the pages when she glances out the window, a pensive look taking place on her angel face.

 

“Uncle Kilo?”

 

“Yes?” he answers, turning forward and proceeding through the intersection.

 

“How come you have not said nothing ‘bout Emma this week?”

 

“What should I be saying?”

 

“Well, maybe ‘bout your date? Did you have a fun time?”

 

“Yup.” Killian isn’t lying. He had tons of fun before the fall.

 

“Are you gonna do another one?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe not, maybe so. It depends on Emma ya know.” Killian tries to instill the most feminist values possible in Ellie because she needs to know better than to get walked all over. He’s playing mom and pop here, Anna’s too far away to teach her how to be a strong woman. He loves her too much to let her grow up submissive and frail. “It’s always up to a lady if she wants to date someone. You don’t ever have to date anyone you don’t want to date.”

 

“But I think Emma wants to.” Ellie expresses quickly. “She likes you.”

 

“She really likes you.” Killian counters. “Maybe we’ll all go out together, if she wants.” They’re pulling into the office center, so he parks the car and turns to meet her eyes for this next part. “I want you to know that you’re not meant to worry about me dating anyone. I don’t care if I never date again, as long as I have you, I’m good.”

 

“Long as I have you, I’m good too!” Ellie smiles brightly at him, like he’s as much her everything as she is his. And it’s true, Killian does like Emma, but he only needs one woman in his life, and that’s Ellie.

 

The shots actually go swimmingly. The nurse is probably the most gentle soul he’s ever encountered at a doctor’s office. She asks Ellie about her boats and Ellie gets so caught up telling her stories about the sea beside her window, that she doesn’t feel a single shot. The Band-Aids she gives her are ballerinas and plenty pretty, so it’s not necessary to stop anywhere.

 

They’re off to register her at their zoned school now and she seems eager and excited as she sips her juice box in the back and munches on the cookie she got for being ‘such a brave soul.’

 

The nurse gave ‘Dad’ a cookie too for bringing her in and asking all the ‘proper’ questions. She mentioned something about the men rarely ever doing it, and how she spends most days with mothers.

 

He learned long ago not to take offense to any of it, not to the idea that only women raise children, or the fact that everyone assumes families are binary and only father’s exist as male caregivers.

 

Ellie doesn’t show signs of discomfort anymore either. People assume what they want and she smiles graciously like the queen she’s training to be. 

 

She deserves two cookies for that.

 

—/—

 

He shuffles to the classroom the administrator directed him to, Ellie settled on his hip. He thinks she’s almost as nervous as he is, as she rubs the collar of his shirt between her finger tips and chews on her bottom lip.

 

He doesn’t think about how important this would have been for Liam and Elsa, how in a few short months their baby girl will be starting school for the first time. He doesn’t need the grief added to this already uneasy experience.

 

Instead, he thinks about what the books say, what the grief counselor says. ‘Get them acclimated early on.’ So he strides through the open door of room 3b in the kinder hallway and as soon as he sets his sights on a petite woman with a pixie cut, he sets Ellie down beside him and begins.

 

“Mrs. Nolan?”

 

“Yes?” As soon as she looks up to greet him, her jaw goes slack. She blinks her wide eyes a few times like she’s restarting her systems. It proves to work, a second later she’s a pleasant, sincere woman. “How may I help the two of you, today?”

 

He pretends the shock never occurred and moves toward her desk at the front, left corner of the classroom.

 

“I’m Killian Jones and this is my niece, Eloise.” His voice is strong but his knees are weak. It's been a year and they don’t have to talk about it; but it’s the reason he picked Mrs. Nolan’s kindergarten class. He wants her to have a teacher that understands the special situation Ellie’s in. “Perhaps… perhaps you’ve heard of my brother and his wife, Liam and Elsa?”

 

“I have.” She politely bows her head in the same stale condolences he’s use to getting from the husbands of the moms in Ellie’s dance group.

 

“Well, I’ve spoken to a grief counselor or…three in the last year. They all recommend the same thing–”

 

“Get her acclimated early.” Mrs. Nolan finishes for him. “She’s going to kindergarten in the fall and you’ve chosen my class?”

 

“You went to their church.” he smiles though he’s dying inside recalling the handshakes at the funeral service. “Your husband played hockey with Liam and I figured… unless of course it’s a conflict of interest? I’d understand, of course, if you felt it inappropriate, I just—”

 

“No, no. It’s fine, honestly. I’d love for Eloise to join my class. I’ve heard good things from the ladies on the pew about how well the two of you have been adjusting to life as of late.” Mrs. Nolan rises from her chair and rounds the desk, crouching in front of a shy Ellie. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Eloise.”

 

“You can call me Ellie. It’s good to meet you, too, Misses Nolan.” Ellie extends her hand like a queen and the dear teacher lets out a surprised laugh in response before taking it.

 

He should have let her do the talking.

 

“Well, Ellie. You’re so well spoken.”

 

“I’m practicing. I’m gonna be queen soon.”

 

“How soon?”

 

“July 3rd, I’m gonna be five!” Ellie beams brightly. “And at five, I get cora-ate-d.” Mrs. Nolan looks up at Killian quickly, a playful smirk present before she revisits Ellie’s eyes.

 

“Wow, _crowned_ at five. Beat that Prince George.” Ellie does her signature giggle and sigh and he thinks she hook-line-and-sunk her future teacher with that one. Her future teacher is a bright one too, because he realizes now, he’s been using ‘coronated’ as well, and he grew up in a country that actually has a monarchy.

 

The silliness of it all has him a bit distracted, so much so he missed the footsteps behind him, leading into the classroom.

 

“Hey, Mary-Margaret, they put whip on it anyho– How the hell did you know to find me here?” Killian turns to find Emma Swan standing in the doorway of the classroom.

 

“Emma?” Mrs. Nolan scolds

 

“Emma?” Killian mouths

 

“Emma!” Ellie moves first, breaking like wind to tackle Emma’s legs, completely unaware that she was holding two coffees in her hand.

 

“Hey Ellie.” The concern leaves her voice immediately. It’s only sincere enthusiasm and that’s why Killian can’t let this one go. She’s already turning to set the coffee down anywhere just so she can lift Ellie into her arms.

 

They continue their greeting quietly before Emma walks the two of them toward Killian and Mrs. Nolan.

 

“What are you doing here, love? Not that any sighting of you isn’t pleasant. I’m thrilled, honestly.” Killian knows he should control the flirting innuendo, but she affects him in ways unstable.

 

“Mary Margaret is like my only friend.” Emma isn’t nearly as amused, but she holds tight to Ellie as she fixes him with a glare.

 

“Oh…” Killian turns to ‘Mary Margaret.’ All of a sudden the shock or awe she exhibited when he first strolled through seems less likely to do with Liam or Elsa and more to do with the blonde woman beside them. “Well, Mrs. Nolan is going to be Ellie’s teacher come fall. I was just uh…”

 

“Getting her acclimated.” Mrs. Nolan finishes for him. “He’s a wonderful parent. Very thorough and caring. I wish all my parents were like you.” The compliment paints him rosy and he has to bow his head to keep them from seeing.

 

“Emma, we’re going to see Cinderella because I was so good for my shots today.” Ellie is stroking one hand through Emma’s long hair, using the other to point at the ballerina Band-Aid on her busy arm. Emma’s defenses have seemed to vanish as her eyes light with amusement the more Ellie goes on.

 

“Are you?” She asks with so much excitement, Ellie only nods eagerly in reply. “Well, that sounds like so much fun.”

 

And he notices now that her previous inhibitions when speaking to Ellie have also dissolved. She’s comfortable, and affectionate, like perhaps she’s missed Ellie as much as he’s missed her. 

 

“Come!” Ellie offers without any coaching from her uncle. “We could share popcorn. It would be so great, Emma really!”

 

“Popcorn, too? With butter?”

 

“Any way you want, as long as you’re there.” Ellie promises.

 

“Well… maybe. Why don’t you and I go hang out over there while your uncle finishes up with Mary…Mrs. Nolan, so I can talk to him about it after? We can color or something.”

 

“I love coloring!” Ellie gasps. “How funny we both like coloring and have yellow hair.”

 

“Blonde.” Killian corrects because some days he really can’t help himself. “Remember, hair that is bright and light like yours is called—?”

 

“Blonde.” Ellie replies softly. “Right, I forgot but now I ‘member. Blonde. How funny that we like to color and we both have blonde hair?” Emma chuckles loudly and walks Ellie over to the tables in the back by the craft shelf.

 

Killian turns back to Mrs. Nolan, a wicked little smirk on her lips when he does.

 

“That’s what the surprised look was for, wasn’t it?”

 

“In my defense, Emma has been going on and on about you.”

 

“She has?” He licks his lips slyly and guides the woman another two steps away from the blondes in the back. “Do tell.”

 

—/—

 

Across the classroom Emma and Ellie are coloring blank pages. Ellie is working deftly on a picture with a brown crayon as Emma draws a yellow daisy, something that constantly pops into her mind when she thinks of Ellie.

 

“That’s a pretty flower.” Ellie comments after a moment. Emma leans back, stretching her sore back from sitting in these miniature chairs. “That’s a pretty thing you got going over there.” She replies unsteadily. She has no idea how to decipher children’s artwork. It’s always a battle when she comes to Mary Margaret’s classroom.

 

“It’s a ship.” Ellie explains and Emma is confused because she’d never paint Princess Ellie, soon-to-be-queen, the type to draw boats over butterflies, but… “When I get bigger, I’m gonna sail on one. I won’t have to buy it, ‘cause they can be ‘spensive. I get one for free from my Uncle …well, my daddy’s… well… Jolly Roger. It’s both my uncle and my daddy’s busy-ness, I think.”

 

“You like sailing?”

 

“Sometimes we go sailing.” Ellie grins. “Sometimes, like on weekends, we go out of town sailing. Like, we test out the ships that are new.”

 

“Is that what the business does?”

 

“Yup, they make all kinds of ship for all kinds of people. Like, sometimes sailors use them, or pirates. Sometimes only people who just got married and wanna have fun and stuff. Sometimes just a few people on small ones. Those are called uhm…” Ellie scrunches her nose and turns to shout across the room to Killian. “S’cuse me, Mrs. Nolan and Uncle Kilo, what are uhm… what are only a few people ships called again?”

 

“Yachts.” Killian answers effortlessly before returning to his conversation with Mary Margaret. It’s surprising how little need there is for context, or explanation.

 

“Right. Yucks.” Ellie nods turning back to Emma. “Those too.” Emma chortles loudly, catching the attention of both her best friend and Killian. She’s embarrassed for sure, but she’s also enamored. Children really do say the darnedest things.

 

It’s funny, she’s spent years listening to her friend go on about what her kids say to her in class, but to have a child like Ellie sit in her presence and say these adorable things…

 

She loves it. She wants more of it. She wants to hear about her first day at Kindergarten come fall. She wants to know her so badly.

 

(She wants to know him too.)

 

“Well, if you have any other questions give me a call or email. I’m on the school’s website.” Mary Margaret explains sweetly. “Otherwise, I look forward to seeing you again. Both of you.”

 

“Oh… I had a question!” Ellie quickly draws her name in long, lengthy lines on the paper before running over to Killian and Mary Margaret. “I made this for you, Mrs. Nolan. It’s a ship.”

 

“And a beautiful ship it is.” Mary Margaret compliments before gasping dramatically. “And you signed it, just like any artist should. How smart are you!”

 

“Uncle Kilo makes me sign all my ships ‘cause he doesn’t want anyone at his job stealing my ideas. He says they are _that_ good.”

 

“They are. That darn Scarlet might come into my office and coin it as his own.”

 

“Scarlet?” Emma’s ears perk, which is insane because that’s a very common last name. It would have to be for a random criminal to pick it, right? “Who uhm… who is that?”

 

“New Design Project Manager” Killian replies without concern. She likes that about him, likes that if people ask questions, he answers them without needing to ask any of his own. It’s a trusting trait she hasn’t yet learned. “It’s been a year and Robin finally convinced me to hire someone to fill the position I left behind.” But now the name seems less common and Emma knows she needs to not go to the movies, but to the office and do some more research on exactly which company her perp is trying to take under now.

 

“Oh, so you taught Ellie to draw such wonderful boats.”

 

“Ships.” Ellie corrects similar to the way Killian corrects her. Like it’s second nature, nothing rude, just a little helpful hand.

 

“Ships, right.” Mary Margaret accepts the help. “Honey, you mentioned a question?”

 

“Yes.” Ellie nods, moving closer to Killian and reaching for his hand. “So, I go to a preschool now and we nap. But my teacher, Ms. Nova says we cannot nap in kindergarten. But we go all day.”

 

“That’s true, it’s a long day, no napping.”

 

“She’s really concerned about this, actually.” Killian frowns. “She’s mentioned it at least a dozen times.”

 

“It’s just…” Ellie looks around before moving closer to Mary Margaret. “Uhm, do you ever have cranky kids? And is it okay, ‘cause sometimes Uncle Kilo says I get whiny if I don’t nap.”

 

“It’s alright. You’ll adjust. Sometimes I get cranky when I don’t sleep well at night. There’s not much you can do, but apologize for your behavior when it occurs, and try your best to keep it from happening often.” Mary Margaret explains sweetly.

 

“You are so much a nice lady.” Ellie beams brightly. “I’m so happy you’re gonna be my teacher.”

 

“I’m so happy I get to teach you. I’ll see you soon?”

 

“Yes.” Ellie nods. Killian looks to Emma as they turn to leave the classroom, and she holds a finger up, asking him to wait for her outside. He nods but he doesn’t smile, and she realizes she really misses his smile.

 

As soon as they’re out of sight, Emma moves across the classroom like wind. “Did you tell him I knew you?”

 

“You were there when you introduced me as your friend, Emma. What’s the big deal, don’t you like this guy?”

 

“Yeah, but you know I’m… I mean, you know I’m…”

 

“You’re avoiding him because you don’t want to get hurt. Yeah, I know you’re…” She waves her hand in the air with this rude, annoyed look on her face and it bothers Emma. It really bothers her because she just wants someone to tell her she’s doing the right thing, keeping her heart guarded.

 

“What did you two talk about just now?”

 

“Ellie.” Mary Margaret narrows her eyes like that was a stupid question. Emma thought teachers went to school to learn how to tell everyone that there is no such thing as a stupid question.

 

“Just Ellie?”

 

“Well, a bit about Liam and Elsa too, but yes, mainly Ellie.”

 

“Nothing about me?”

 

“How vain are you?” Mary Margaret snorts and Emma knows she’s lying. “You do know he’s a business man and parent. There’s much more to talk about than a woman he went on one date with and won’t call him back,” She starts to tune Mary Margaret out because it just sounds snarky, but then she hits her with that last bit.

 

“He told you that?”

 

“He’s called you three times after you called him, left a voicemail, why didn’t you reply?”

 

“Oh he is such a girl, trying to pump my best friend for information. Oh… oh…”

 

“Oh what?” Mary Margaret is still laughing. “That’s all he said, we went straight back to Ellie. It’s really endearing how much he loves that little girl.”

 

“I know.” Emma frowns. “You don’t get an awful vibe from him or anything?”

 

“God no, do you?”  She practically shouts at her.

 

“No!” Emma rejects quickly. “I was just making sure; I maybe want to go see Cinderella. I told you last week that I wanted to, so don’t give me any look. And yeah, an opportunity presented itself today.”

 

“Yeah, you told me last week, after mentioning how you really want to go to Ellie’s party and dress up like a princess.” Mary Margaret adds like it’s fucking necessary.

 

“I’m gonna go now.” Emma slaps down her daisy drawing, unsigned, on her friend’s desk. “You can rearrange your classroom yourself.”

 

—/—

 

He’s cautious as she walks up to them, like he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Ellie however, leaps from her seat on the hallway bench and darts toward Emma.

 

“You ready?”

 

“Uhm… did you ask your uncle if it was okay?” Emma whispers to the kid clinging to her hand. Ellie’s face skews into the most adorably confused frown.

 

“Of course it’s okay, he likes you, Emma?” She practically shouts, but it’s cute because she actually believes she whispering as she does it. What comes next is factual shouting. “Uncle Kilo, Emma’s afraid you don’t want her to go. Isn’t that crazy?”

 

“Absolutely mad.” Killian grins. He stands and crosses the floor to meet Emma, greeting her with his hand on her lower back, and a kiss to her cheek. “I want few things more than to watch this princess movie with you and Eloise.”

 

“You like princesses then?” Emma asks with a teasing smirk.

 

“Every girl is a princess.” Ellie answers for him. “It’s from The Little Princess. That’s my Uncle Kilo’s favorite princess movie.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“It’s a good film, Swan. What’s yours?” Killian asks softly, Ellie is actually tugging on both their wrists, trying to make headway toward the door.

 

“I like… I like the Princess Bride.” Emma answers as she moves toward the pull of Ellie.

 

“Hmm, never heard of it.” Ellie replies but her heart’s evidently not in it because her heart is already at the cinema.

 

“A beauty named Buttercup, pirates and horses.” Killian continues to walk beside Emma and Ellie, their shoulders brushing as they head for the parking lot. “All the things I think you’ll love.”

 

—/—

 

The movie is inspiring in a way. Not that she feels particularly warm and fuzzy about herself, but about the man she went to watch it with. Perhaps there is kindness in the world, she sees it in his eyes when he stares at her instead of the screen for the better half of two hours.

 

Maybe if there is kindness, there’s magic, because all her fears of bending her rules fly out the window miraculously when they’re walking to their cars and he reaches for her hand. The walk is less than 20 yards, so it’s nothing to write home about; but perhaps it’s enough to store in her head next time she thinks not to answer his calls.

 

“If I call you, you’ll answer now?” He asks after buckling Ellie in and turning on the ac. They’re standing between her car door and his when he confronts her.

 

It’s a well-deserved confrontation. She should have answered then. She’s sure to answer now.

 

“Yes.” She sighs.

 

“Bye Emma! Miss you already!” Ellie calls out to her, causing a much needed interception because the insecurity was filling in his eyes as quickly as the guilt was filling in hers. She moves to Ellie’s window, brushing her hand through Ellie’s loose locks and smiling brightly.

 

“I’ll miss you too! Thanks for inviting me.”

 

“Thanks for coming! I was just telling Uncle Kilo that I wanted to see you and boom, you were at my new school.”

 

“I sure was. What luck, huh?”

 

“Yeah.” Ellie exhales softly, batting lashes and burrowing deeper into Emma’s heart by doing practically nothing at all.

 

Killian clears his throat, staring at Ellie while rotating his wrist in a rolling motion. Ellie takes the hint, rolling up her window after muttering a quick ‘bye again!’ to Emma.

 

“Is this a private conversation?”

 

“Perhaps, less conversing, more…” and he taps his stupid lip again, inducing shivers and reminders of the last time he did it. She would call it bold, but the truth is, she’s been longing to kiss him again since the last one ended.

 

He’s under her skin.

 

She leans forward, but he catches her jaw at the last minute, causing her eyes to fly open in irrational fear that she misunderstood him. There are his brilliant blue eyes staring back at her with something too sweet, she’s becoming giddy over it. He guides her even closer to him, making her go the entire way; but it’s worth it. For the feel of his lips again, the electric state it leaves her in, it’s definitely worth it.

 

(God, she thinks he’s worth it.)

 

His lips restructure the whole dynamic of this kiss, when he tilts his head and they overlap hers, capturing her bottom lip between them. (Possibly capturing her heart at the same time.) He’s pressing against her, and the whole way she traveled to meet his lips seconds ago has been backtracked as he wraps an arm around her waist, and has her back leaning past her center of balance. Of course, her center of balance was thrown off the moment he entered her world.

 

And when he tugs slowly from her, bringing her bottom lip with him for an extended second, she feels her weightless world come to a crashing halt. They are in the parking lot, Ellie is a whole foot from them, probably watching the same way she did with Ella and Kit. It’s probably inappropriate, but then again, that kiss was similar to this one; French horns sounding in a distance and what not. Maybe it’s alright.

 

“Answer when I call.” He whispers, and she can only nod because her voice is not reliable now.

 

And he opens her car door, but she refuses to open her eyes until she’s behind the wheel. She’s not prepared to see how real this is to him. She starts the engine, closing her door, and he pats the hood twice before backing away. She meets his eyes in the rearview, sees how he watches her until she’s out of the parking lot.

 

He lingers and she finds she loves the way it makes her feel, someone watching her like they need every last glimpse they can get. She's felt desired before, but never wanted.

 

Killian Jones actually wants her, and it’s as clear as the blush on her cheeks when she checks herself in the mirror at the first red light.

 

—/—

 

So when he calls her that night, she answers.

 

He asks her out again. It’s sly this time, something like:

 

“ _Ellie has a sleepover next weekend.’”_

And she takes the bait with a “yeah, so you’ll be bored out of your mind then?” because she’s still flying on that Disney movie magic, and the taste of his lips are still lingering against her own.

 

_“Yeah, somewhat bored, very much alone… unless…”_

 

“Unless?”

 

_“You could come over for dinner.”_

 

“Your place?” She mock gasps. “Not your sacred place, you have a third date rule.”

 

_“Fifth date, actually, so don’t get any ideas.”_ She thinks he’s joking. She hopes he’s joking. _“And if I did have a third date rule, this would be it.”_

 

“Yeah, how do you figure?”

 

_“Well, first date, sushi and ballet, second was today. I met your friend after all, and you gave me a ‘goodnight’ kiss.”_

“You kissed me!” She practically squeals. It’s embarrassing. Everything she does is just so embarrassing, but he makes her this way. It’s like the teenage years she should have had, the high school crush and the long phone conversations. “And, I didn’t invite you to meet my friend. Boston happens to be a small world.”

 

_“I kissed you, you kissed me. Same thing.”_ His voice dips into the danger zone with his next sentence. _“We perhaps could kiss again. I don’t know, we’ll see. Just say you’ll come.”_

“I’ll come.”

 

 


	5. Wants Selected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Freakin Once Day! I’m so stoked that we all survived that wicked hiatus. Now lets just survive this season, eh? 
> 
> So, this chapter contains smut. Just so we’re all clear. Please enjoy it, and thanks again to everyone showing love and leaving comments. I cannot express how absolutely grateful I am for each one. 
> 
> And as always, thanks to RavenclawPianist for doing saint’s work and beta’ing this fic!

**Wants Selected**

_It’s just dinner at his place_ , she thinks to herself as she lays out a lacy thong to match her ‘body’ by Victoria bra.

_We’re just going to have dinner, nothing else,_ she lies to herself as she makes sure to shave in the shower.

 

She primps herself more than she ever has. She curls her hair, puts on one of her tightest dresses, and dabs perfume on every pulse point she can think of. The last time they met, it was coincidental, she was in jeans and sneakers, meant to only be doing manual labor. Her hair was tied up and her make up was worn off from the day’s activities.

 

She wants to be flawless, Tonight.

 

She knows he’s seen her otherwise, and it hasn’t really mattered, but she wants him to want her the moment she arrives. She’s willing to give this one more go, she can either get him out of her system, or be in too deep to get out unscathed.

 

—/—

 

A valet offers to park her car when she gets to her building and she has to be sure she didn’t park at a fucking hotel. There happens to be one just across the plaza, but the address above the grand entrance reads the same as his text.

 

“I’ll ring Mr. Jones to let him know you’re headed up.” The doorman gives her a once over for her outfit choice and she has a ‘Pretty Woman’ moment.

 

“Thank you.” She grins, though with barred teeth. She finds the elevator, just past ornate floral arrangements sitting on antique buffets. The text read ‘9th’ floor. She can’t imagine the security of taking the stairs during a disaster, but she rides unaccompanied the nine floors and heads to Apartment 9e.

 

She’s in the middle of adjusting her bust when the door swings open, revealing an eager-eyed sheep in wolves’ clothing. And how the clothes do fit. He stands before her in dark wash jeans, hole-filled but tighter than a ‘relaxed fit’ should hang, and a Motion City Soundtrack shirt.

 

He’s casually trying to look less attractive and failing miserably, because the 20-something misfit-look is actually really working for her.

 

(He in generally is ‘really’ working for her)

 

“Swan?” He steps across the barrier, waggling his brows at her. “Do you need help in there?”

 

She realizes she’s still in the middle of adjusting her bust, hand right down the front of her dress.  If it were socially acceptable to physically face-palm on a date, she’d have the largest red mark between her eyes right about now.

 

“Aha.” She slowly slips her hand from her bra, brushing it gently against the fabric of her dress. “Not immediately, no” She grins awkwardly, but he’s in her space before the full embarrassment has a chance to sneak in.

 

He’s in her space and he takes all of it from her, starting with the awkwardness of getting caught with her hand down her dress, and ending with the air in her lungs. He wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her in for a hug. She’s surprised by how tightly she squeezes him, holding onto the urge she’s had to see him all week.

 

“I’m glad you’re here.” he whispers against her jawline.

 

“Yeah… me too.” He plants a kiss to her cheek that makes her melt further into him just as he’s moving away. It’s the second time in two seconds that she’s embarrassed herself, and she’s starting to think this was a bad idea.

 

“You look amazing, Love, truly but…”

 

“But?” She could tell from the band tee that maybe this wasn’t a ‘sex it up’ kind of thing. Maybe she’s overdressed(or under) and she should have worn jeans.

 

“Well, I’d just hate for you to get dirty.” He slid his tongue over his teeth before raising his eyebrows playfully and leading her back into his apartment.

 

“Welcome to the Jones Residence.”

 

She’s not sure if it’s an apartment or spread in ‘Better Homes and Gardens’ because it looks like HGTV was here. She’s talking engineered hardwood floors that flow throughout, quartz kitchen counters with white shaker-style cabinets that make the whole kitchen look three times larger. She’s overwhelmed by the open concept living and dining room. The table seats six, but from what she knows, it’s just the two of them. The couches are a bright white, like he doesn’t have a four year-old running around, but decorated with perfectly picked throw blankets and pillows. It all views a fireplace with a flatscreen above the mantle. It looks like her just straight out bought the model that they use for selling these things.

 

“Why is your apartment so… I mean…”

 

“Really, the view of the harbor is the best part.” He points to the large case windows overlooking the water. “Everything else is just… clean.” He grins at that, this weirdly cute, mildly telling smirk that has Emma pegging him as some sort of germaphobe.

 

“You like things clean, then?”

 

“Don’t you?” He questions, taking obvious offense.

 

“Well, yeah, but you did just promise me I’d be getting dirty.” And she tries to be as flirty as he usually is. She even goes as far as to run her tongue along her bottom lip and quirk an eyebrow.  He tries to playoff the effect she has on him, but she sees it and it’s so good to know they’re equal in that.

 

“Well, that’s because you’re learning to cook Tonight.”

 

—/—

 

“In the movies, they throw it on the wall to test that it’s done.” Emma comments as she scoops out spaghetti from the boiling pot and cranks her back her arm to fling it. His hand wraps around her wrist immediately.

 

“Love, this isn’t a movie, and we’re not flinging spaghetti around my kitchen.” Her eyes flutter to meet his, playful and sneaky.

 

“I never did it before, live a little.” She pouts and he wants to kiss that protruding lip of hers, she’s too beautiful not to.

 

But he wonders if he’s free to take such liberties.

 

She’s answered every time he’s called since the movie. She’s even taken the liberty of calling him once or twice.  Of course all liberties are hers to take. She must know she holds the cards.

 

So he lets her throw the pasta, and he throws a noodle, too. It sticks and the way she turns to him with child-like surprise and wonder makes his heart ache.  She’s never done cliches before. She’s never experienced idiotic little things that families ‘in the movies’ do and he hurts for her because yes, he was an orphan, but Elsa, Liam, Anna and he found a family with each other that rivaled that of the most hilarious sitcoms.

 

He thinks maybe they could get there, the three of them. Maybe, if the fear of opening up again doesn't destroy her will to be with him, maybe they might make it there one day.

 

She’s getting ahead of herself now, turning of the heat and going to dump the spaghetti straight into the sauce, and he has to physically withhold her from doing so because his words won’t work soon enough.

 

“Lass, you have to drain it.” He shakes his head, chuckling when she nods as if she already knew that.

 

“Right. Of course.” She sets toward the kitchen sink, walking over to do the same dumping motion without a colander.

 

“Swan.” Killian whispers. “You’ll dump all your hard work down the drain, literally. We need a colander.”

 

“Colander? Are we still speaking English?” He had planned this evening to get her to fall a little bit more into him, but her wide-eyed doe-like look is only making him more and more enamored with her. After another chuckle and a slight shake of his head, he proceeds to grab one and demonstrate.

 

They’re halfway through frying the cutlets for the chicken parmesan when she gets excited. She is biting back a grin and staring down at the sauté pan with smiling eyes.

 

“What is it?” He whispers beside her jaw. He’s been standing behind her, guiding her hands by her forearms for the last five minutes, and watching the magic in her features as she learns to cook.

 

“I just… I’m actually cooking chicken. Like, I burn grilled cheese.”

 

“Everyone burns grilled cheese, the bread taste better dark.”

 

“No, like the cheese is black. I burn it.” She snorts at herself, as he muffles his outburst of laughter behind her shoulder.  She looks over at him, and their eyes meet with something so intense, the roar of laughter dies in his throat, and all he can feel is his breath being beaten out by the pounding of his heart against his lungs.

 

He presses his lips to the skin he’s been laughing into, once, twice until she turns into him, cupping his jaw and attacking his lips. He’s not sure where the tongs she was holding went, but her hands are slipping from his face to his shirt as she walks him away from the stove. His hands are landing on the counter, gripping something solid because the rest of him is floating away.

 

Kissing her is like a breath at the top of a mountain side. It’s weak and harsh at the same time. The air is thin and the more he thinks about it, the dizzier he becomes. So he stops thinking and lets his body take over, hands roaming over her tight figure, barely concealed beneath the tight dress she has on.

 

Her hands are flat against his chest when she pulls away, huffing out a few heavy breaths before turning back to the stove. He watches her hand locate the tongs on the countertop beside the burner. “Can’t burn the first meal I’ve ever actually cooked.” She laughs. “They’ll be more of that later though. For sure”  she says with breathy speech.

 

He’s so damn disoriented, he’s not sure if he’s supposed to laugh or agree. He’s busy licking his lips to taste the marinara sauce she gave a ‘quality check’ to earlier. His heart is drumming in his chest like a marching band and trying to catch his breath and wits at the same time.

 

He’s not sure he’ll survive this night.

 

—/—

 

They’re sitting at the table, about to break bread when he’s pouring them both a glass of wine. He likes to stay sober when Ellie’s out, just in case he has to retrieve her, but Robin is on call, since Roland is also attending the slumber party at Allie’s.

 

(There’s really nothing to keep them uninterrupted.)

 

She waits for him to finish pouring before taking the first bite and he can hear the satisfying crisp of the chicken beneath sauce, and he knows she did it just right.  He can pinpoint the exact moment she knows too. She’s mid chew when her eyes gleam widely.

 

“It’s actually good, like, it’s really good. I know you laid everything out and supervised, but this is probably the most proud moment I’ve had in years.”

 

He makes a show of trying it himself, first pretending it’s absolutely horrid before breaking into a proud grin.

 

“It’s delicious, Love. Now you at least know how to not starve.”

 

“Well, I still might, there’s no way in hell I own a colander.” He laughs at that, but lets his mind think of silly things like how she won’t need one if this all goes well; because he has one and why would they need two?

 

It’s exhausting, trying to keep himself from dreaming up a future with this woman. It’s just, they touch and parts of his soul sigh in familiarity, like they’ve loved each other lifetimes before this one.

 

“We can make a habit out of this, I can show you things that don’t require colanders.” He just wants her to say this is a start to something. He wants her to say that she wants to keep seeing him. This isn’t their first date, and they kiss like they’ve been bare before each other for years. He doesn’t need a label or anything serious, just some sign that the interest goes past the physical.

 

She gives him one, when she turns to him with the softest, sweetest smile she’s ever worn for just him. “I’d actually really love that.” It’s a little breathy. He’s not exactly sure how he’s to finish this meal when he’s fighting the urge to do other things with his mouth constantly.

 

—/—

 

They’ve finished dinner, and she’s following behind him carrying the wine glasses as he so graciously cleared the plates. She’s fighting a grin when he turns on the faucet and squirts soap on a sponge.

 

“Don’t you have a dishwasher?”

 

“Of course I do.” He smiles over his shoulder, brushing the sponge over the first plate.

 

“Why don’t you use it?”

 

“I do. I mean, I plan to, I just…” He turns off the water abruptly and turns to her with the most worried look she’s seen a man wear over dishes. “Tell me you prewash your dishes before loading them into this thing, Swan.”

 

She can’t contain the barking laugh that bellows from her gut. He’s definitely a germaphobe and it’s a little too sexy a trait on him. “Killian, I don’t do dishes. I literally never use my kitchen.”

 

“I have to show you how to wash dishes then, too?”

 

“I know how, I just don’t.”

 

“And all those containers I sent you?”

 

“Those weren’t disposable?” She’s joking. She ‘somewhat’ washed them and let them dry before shoving them back into that bag and hiding it under the sink in her shoebox kitchen.

 

“Remind me to use styrofoam next time.” He turns back to his task at hand and Emma watches the meticulousness that is Killian Jones in amusement. She sits at one of the barstools tucked into the kitchen island and watches him work at the sink built in to the end of it.

 

“So, they’ll be a next time, that you prepare twelve or so meals for me?”

 

“S’that what you want?” He doesn’t look up at her, and it sounds a bit too insecure for a man who has her reconsidering everything she knew about dating and being guarded.

 

“We… could spend more time together. Doesn’t necessarily have to be only one night a week. You cook, or teach me and then I won’t need nearly as many meals.” He licks his bottom lip, but she knows its only to cover up the smile she just scored from him.

 

She’s not ready to give him a definite yes to exclusivity, not that she’s remotely interested in anyone else, and even if she were, he blows every guy in existence out of the water; she’s mainly just trying to stomp out any fear her week-long cold shoulder put in him.

 

“I mean… if that’s what you want.” She adds for good measure.

 

He just grins to himself, finishing the dishes and placing them all into the dishwasher. It’s obviously state-of-the-art because she hears nothing but the sound of him opening the freezer seconds later.

 

“For dessert, I bought what I assume to be your favorites.” He turns around with three separate pints of Ben and Jerry’s: New York Super Fudge Chunk, Half-Baked Fudge Brownie and Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, and Cherry Garcia; these are the three she had in her basket that night at Roche Bros, a week after they first met.

 

The overwhelming sensation to cry tears of amazement, because joy isn’t close to what she’s feeling, is almost too much for her to resist. She stares at him with a slack jaw and eyes so large, astronauts might land on them instead of the moon. He’s just watching her, patiently waiting for a response.

 

“Killian?”

 

“I didn’t know which was your favorite, but this is the second time I took you away from your ‘pint-a-night’ routine, so I figured you were more than worth the three of them.” He laughs, rubbing his shoulder against his ear as he steps forward and sets the pints down.

 

“You’re insane.” She puffs out, disbelief stealing her voice. “I…”

 

“Just point if articulating is too much.” He jests, but there’s no making light of this.

 

She’s too perplexed to speak. Every part of her is shouting all at once; her head is shouting ‘run’ while her heart is pleading to stay. Her gut is too busy swatting at a bunch of butterflies fluttering about to say anything, and somehow that says everything.

 

“Emma?”  She blinks rapidly, trying to undo the spell she’s under, but when she looks back up at him, everything is fucking rosy once again. He’s some sort of wizard, and she would be annoyed if she weren’t so busy being smitten.

 

“You’re going too far out of your way for me, Jones.” She doesn’t realize how self-depreciative she sounds until his palm is cupping her jaw, and he’s watching her with eyes so somber she feels it. She feels how badly he wants her to realize she’s worth it.

 

“No one can ever go too far for you, Emma.” Killian smiles this beautiful smile like he’ll make the sunrise just for her if she needs it. “Now, let’s take er… _one_ of these to the couch and watch a movie, yeah?”

 

She stands and he watches her carefully as she walks around the counter to him, and maybe there’s something sparking in her eyes that have his own flaming to life. They reach for each other at the same moment in time, his hands on her waist, her arms around his shoulders. She leans into him, ready to thank him with lips, but not words; but he surprises her. He moves his hands to her hips, lifting her to sit on the counter top beside the ice cream and suddenly the butterflies in her gut are drowned out by the tidal wave of excitement.

 

He centers himself between her legs, reaching to his right to pull out two spoons from the drawer beside her knee. He hands her one, surely noticing the slight tremble when she reaches for it.

 

“I like this half-baked name. It’s clever.” He whispers, reaching for the pint of ice cream with the corresponding title he just mentioned. He drags the cold carton across her bare thigh slowly, reveling in the shivering response she gives him. He opens the lid, already having removed the plastic seal. He barely grabs enough to taste the two ice creams battling in the container, but as soon as the spoon leaves his lips, his mouth is on hers.

 

It’s hungry and cold, but it’s filling her to the brim with heat and need. This is not a kiss you give if you’re not planning on giving much more. His lips dominate hers, pressing them to part as he tilts his head and demands entrance. She’s wondering if this is the same shy guy before her, juggling ice cream just seconds ago. His tongue twirls around hers slowly before he pulls away from her so abruptly, she can no longer wonder things at all.

 

“Is it this one, you like this one best?” somehow, a discussion about cold ice cream has melted her brain and brought a fiery heat to her body.

 

“I have to taste them all.” She whispers against his lips, leaning so far into him, she’d surely sustain injury if he moved away.

 

But he only moves closer, until the fly of his jeans is lightly brushing against her center. He rests his hand on her upper thigh, reaching for Cherry Garcia with the other. He tugs the lid off using his teeth, the spoon completely lost to him as he runs his tongue along the top melting layer. Her core clenches at the sight of his languid motion. 

 

He presses his forehead close against hers as he sets the carton down, his cold hand ignites the most burning chills down her spine when it cups the back of her neck. She’s waiting for the taste, for him, but he’s teasing her. He grazes his nose along hers, light puffs of breath against her cheek, and it’s enticingly agonizing. It’s when he grips his hand in her hair, pulling her closer, but still not kissing her, that she breaks in a whine. And of course she knows she could jump the gun and kiss him, but _being_ kissed by him is so much more mind-numbing; it’s a state-altering drug she’s quickly growing addicted to.

 

But finally, their lips meet.

 

She can’t contain how sexually charged she feels, her body is buzzing, near convulsing when he sweeps his tongue over hers. He knows how to make a girl crazy with want, with need, and it’s nirvana now that he’s kissing her. Still, she wants so much more.

 

She presses her hips closer, grinding against the growing bulge of his pants. He halts the kiss instantly.

 

“Excellent show of patience, Love.” he chuckles against her lips. “But, we’ve one more to try.” She wants to groan in frustration, but instead nods and sighs. His hand slips from her hair to settle at her chin as he leans back and looks at her. She’s sure she looks wrecked, and he’s here sitting pretty and unfazed. Her head’s spinning and her heart’s throbbing and she wants more than anything right now to jump his fucking bones…

 

…but she sees behind the sexy facade. She knows he’s afraid she’ll do what she did last time and blow him off when the night’s over. If dragging it out, making it last longer, making it better with every agonizing second they’re not ‘together’ helps keep the fear from his gorgeous blue eyes, she’ll allow it.

 

Besides, if she’s worth three pints of ice cream, he’s worth the wait of tasting each one.

 

He presses a soft kiss to her jaw before dropping her chin to grab the last pint. She drops her hands to rest at his waist noticing his hand hasn’t left her thigh since they started this. And she realizes as lustful as this is, it’s also really comfortable, like they’ve been together long before they ever met.

 

This time, when his spoon dives into the New York Super Fudge Chunk, he moves it to her mouth right after. She takes the whole bowl of the spoon in her mouth before slowly letting it drag back from her lips, meeting his eyes the whole while. He slams it down beside the pint of ice cream once it’s fully left her mouth, and launches a full assault on her mouth. He’s smothering her lips with his own, thrusting his tongue inside to meet hers. His hand grips tighter on her thigh, his other finding it’s previous place within her curls.

 

She moans into his mouth when he tugs on her hair; the sound has him pressing himself into her, and she only moans again, grinding right back against him. She feels a swirl of desperation in her gut, it’s an end-all kind of want that has her gripping at his hips and urging him as close to her as possible.

 

He uses his grip on her leg to part her thighs even further, and the anticipation gets the best of her. She breaks the kiss to regain control over herself. She can’t remember ever being this turned on, and she’s sure it shows in her breathy sighs against his ear as he continues to kiss along her jaw, down the column of her neck and to her collarbone.

 

(Her weakness is her collarbone)

 

She starts rolling herself against his bulge again, desperate for some sort of friction, some sort of release. He stops her with his hand gripping her hair just hard enough to get her attention.

 

“Let me.” She’s shivering yet again at the husky sound of his voice, but agrees eagerly.

 

He presses her back to lay against the cool countertop, the contrast against her heated flesh doing a number on her senses. She lays with eyes closed tight as she enters that same state of hypersensitivity she experiences every time he touches her.

 

But he’s never touched her like this.

 

He’s never slipped his fingers past the apex of her thigh, she’s never felt his knuckles brush against her as he hooks his finger through her thong, tugging it to the side. He lets out a shaky breath and she feels it tremble straight to wear he’s timidly touching her damp heat.

 

“You are so fucking wet, Emma.” She’s not disagreeing, but she’s certain no matter how wet she was before, a whole new wave just crashed down after hearing him swear with that sinful accent.

 

He brushes her clit, lightly at first, which has her whimpering; then a bit rougher, dragging down and curving his finger inside of her. Each tiny sliver of distance his finger gains is felt at it’s maximum ability. It’s a good start, but not nearly enough and she’s not sure how to beg for more other than thrusting up to meet him.

 

“More.” She breathes.

 

He obliges, sliding in an extra finger without the slightest resistance. She begins to object when he lowers himself and directs her legs to lay over his shoulders. She starts to, but he hushes her gently. She trusts him enough to let him do what other men don’t.

 

Because men don’t go down on her. She doesn’t let them get that intimate, but he knows her top three picks for ice cream and that she eats like a fourteen year-old runaway so they’re miles past the intimacy this requires and she trusts him.

 

And when his tongue presses flat against her clit, she knows she made the right decision trusting him. The same languid motions he taunted her with moments ago are all present and she lets her body receive what he’s providing without cautionary thoughts. It’s the most amazing sensation when he starts working her over using his fingers, but keeping his tongue active, flicking, sucking and licking her into a climax.

 

And what a climax it is. She had been softly moaning the whole while, but she cums in a loud cry, slamming her palms flat against the countertop as her back arches and toes curl. It’s clear as day that he did his job, but he’s still down there, still at it. She has to physically push him away when the feeling is too much.

 

“You’re amazing.” He compliments and she almost chokes, rushing to lean on her elbows and watch him as he views her. Her vision is slightly blurry, but she sees him lick his lips and wipe at his chin clear enough to blush over it.

 

“Me?” it’s a breathy laugh, something incredulous, because honestly? “You’re the one who just had me…”

 

“Had you what?” he leans over her, his hand sliding up her thigh, and another reaching to twine in her hair. She clenches, and the cycle starts all over again. He doesn’t let her stay satisfied long enough to breathe before she needs him again.

 

“Cumming.” She challenges, desperate to gain some sort of control over the situation. (She’s desperate for a lot of things.)

 

“S’that something you want to do again, Love?”  His breath fans over her face as he whispers and she can smell herself, smell what he did to her. It only makes her want him more. She lifts her chin the slightest bit and meets his lips, tasting everything.  He lets her, using his skillful tongue to give her a full playback on the favor he just did her.

 

When he pulls back it’s to ask again. “What do you want Emma?” And his fingers dance closer and closer along her thigh toward her center again.

 

“You.”

 

“Me?” Her eyes are closed, but she knows he’s watching her, looking for something that signifies this will last past tonight. She knows because his voice is less erotic, and a little more hesitant. “For how long?”

 

“Killian…” she opens her eyes with a sigh and meets his. “For longer than tonight, I promise you another date. I promise you two. I’ll answer all your calls, and I’ll make some of my own. I promise.”

 

When he kisses her in reply, he tugs her into him, raising her from her back. When he stops, he steps away from her, giving her the room to get off the counter, and the eye contact they maintain is so charged, she can’t actually feel her feet hitting the floor, just his hands on her waist the moment they do. He tugs her against him, pressing his forehead to hers, and walking her backward out of the kitchen.

 

“You drive me wild, you’re aware, aren’t you?” He’s breathing heavy like the weight of his decision is settled on his lungs. Her hands are clinging to his shoulders as she shuffles her feet, trusting he won’t guide her into anything painful. “I’ve wanted you from the start.”

 

“I’ve wanted you too.” She admits, hoping it heals whatever hesitant fear he’s still holding onto. “Nothing’s changed, just… gotten more intense, I guess.” He doesn’t speak, just nods against her before burying his face in the crook of her neck, squeezing tighter at her hips, like he’s trying his hardest to keep her.

 

She thinks it’s only fair that she try her hardest to let him.

 

Once they past through the french doors of the master suite, he places two tender kisses to her collarbone before letting her go to turn and close the door behind them. She takes those seconds to catch her breath.

 

She’s so sure she wants this, positive she wants to sleep with him. She’s just afraid she’ll want so much more now. She’s already offering to keep seeing him and on more frequent basis now. He’s got her hooked on him and it’s frightening. Sex has always been her way of limiting men to the physical. Somehow, she doesn’t see that working with Killian Jones.

 

“You are so gorgeous, Swan.” He mutters against her neck when he turns back to her. “Like a fairytale come to life.”

 

“Stop it” she smacks his chest coyly. “I’m just me… don’t make this so cliche.” He tugs away abruptly, narrowing his eyes in what looks like irritation.

 

“How do you not understand that you’re a prize Emma, a fucking prize?” He cups her cheek, guiding her close to meet his widening eyes, and she realizes it’s not irritation at all. “I’m not entirely sure I’ve won you, yet. I just need you to know I’m appreciative anyhow.”

 

“Hey?” she guides his hand from her face to link fingers with her own. “Don’t downplay yourself, you know you’re one of the sexiest men in America.” he chuckles and she laughs in reply, happy to break the intensity of the moment. “Don’t laugh, I know you know, you cocky idiot.” He licks his lips and lifts her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles.

 

“I certainly know I’m not unattractive, if that’s what you mean.”

 

“Yeah, thats what I mean.” she tugs her hand from his, needing both to regain control of the situation because the way he’s beaming at her has her focus diminishing. She slides her hands to his chest, moving slowly down toward his waist and grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m sure you only grow more attractive without this band tee.”

 

His smile slips into something heated. His lips part and she can see his teeth grind shut. She lifts it up slowly, and he participates, raising his strong arms above his head for her. Once removed, she gets a full view of his chest. She never thought as a teenager she’d be this turned on by a little chest hair, but running her fingers through it has her pressing her thighs together tightly.

 

He grabs her by her wrists, tugging them up over her head before dragging his fingers up her thighs to the hem of her minidress. He tugs up, and it’s a little snug, but she manages to help him get it over her head and off to the floor somewhere.

 

“For fucksake, Swan” He groans, brushing a thumb past his bottom lip and using it to drag down the valley of her breasts. “You are everything.”  His hand molds along her ribs, pulling her toward him, as he pounces on her lips, covering them with his own in a fierce, wet kiss. She can barely keep up now, the reality of the situation numbing at her mind. She forces her hands between them, deftly attacking the fastening on his jeans, but he stalls her with his free hand, eliciting a whine from her.

 

“Killian” She groans against his lips.

 

“I need you desperate Emma.” He urges her to move around the bed, and she lets him lead her, her wrist still gripped in his hand. He nips at her bottom lip, nuzzles his nose along her jaw, and bites, gently, at her neck before letting her go. “Lay down for me.”

 

Emma’s never been the type to obey orders, but he’s so hot when he tells her what to do, with his eyes illuminating the dark room, paralyzing her mind’s ability to make decisions for herself. She sits on the bed slowly; it’s high enough to have her feet dangling when he presses her knees apart. He kneels before her, pressing kisses to her stomach, pushing her back gently to nibble at her hipbones. And she knows where this is going, but they’ve already been there and she wants more.

 

So she beats him to the punch, slipping one hand onto his shoulder, and sliding the other beneath the waistband of her thong.

 

“Emma” he sounds broken, and she hopes it’s just his will to make her wait shattering. She spreads her thighs further apart, pressing the heels of her feet to the side of bed. He groans before her, gripping at her hips and egging her on to continue. The featherlight touches she’s using are no longer enough when he presses his lips to her mound and exhales warm breath between thin lace.

 

“Killian, please.” She whines, tugging her hand from herself and gripping his hair with damp fingers. “I don’t want to wait anymore.” The hand she’s got on his shoulder shakes him with pleading.

 

“Emma, look at me.” She obliges to find conflict in his eyes. “It’s… I’ve been celibate for a year now.”

 

“You don’t want to do this?” She’s afraid he’ll say no.

 

“I do. Trust me.”

 

“Then what’s wrong?”

 

“I just want to satisfy you.”

 

“You already did, Killian. We’re good.” She cups his jaw, running her thumb along a scar she’ll have to ask about when the moment’s right. “Just, trust me. I want you bad enough, I doubt it’ll be an issue.”

 

“Yeah?” She nods and his face splits in a grin. “I want you to want me more.” He rises from his knees, wrapping his hands around her wrists and forcing them back to the bed. He’s hovering over her, watching her with predatory eyes.

 

“Killian?”

 

“Tell me what you like.” He presses his hips to hers roughly, her legs still spread wide for him.

 

“What?” she pants out.

 

“Tell me what makes you wet.” He whispers against her jaw. She’s already soaking through the material between herself and his jeans. She doesn’t have the use of her hands to guide him, and she’s not sure she’s bold enough to articulate through words, so she lifts her chest against his, silently begging for him to caress her.

 

They must be in sync, because his hand is immediately behind her back, releasing the clasp of her bra and tugging the straps from her shoulders. She sighs in relief when he cups one breast, stroking his thumb back and forth across her nipple. Her sighs turn to moans when he takes the other in his mouth, using the gentlest bit of teeth as he tugs at it. She gets closer with each lap of his tongue, but the sensation is gone all too soon.

 

“Tell me more.” With free hands she directs his mouth to her collarbone and his hand to her ass. He’s the quickest learner she’s ever known. He’s grabbing a handful of bare flesh, kneading it roughly as he groans and growls. He’s forcing her hips closer to his and the friction is close to heaven, but not quite the Nirvana she’s searching for. She wants so much more.

 

This time, she goes to unbutton his jeans and he lets her, hand sliding from her ass to her hair, and she learns then what turns him on most. When he’s free from the denim confides, she doesn’t hesitate to slip her hands beneath his boxer briefs, finally feeling what she’s been waiting for all night. She feels his body fight the urge to thrust into her hands, so she squeezes him a little, letting him know she’s just as desperate.

 

“Fuck, Swan.” He rips her hand from his briefs immediately after, shoving her wrist against the bed again. “What else gets you there, Love?”

 

“You, probably.” She exhales in frustration. “I just want you inside, Killian.” But he doesn’t budge in the slightest, his weight still pressing her hand into the mattress.

 

He stares at her with pure fire in his eyes and she just wants to burn already.

 

“I like words, especially coming from _your_ mouth.” She folds. “Talk to me.” He grins again and it flips her fucking stomach to see the devilish way he’s watching her.

 

“What words?” he asks, but she’s not giving him anything else until she gets what she wants. She presses her lips into a thin line, narrowing her eyes and raising a defiant brow. “Emma?” she shakes her head slowly.

 

He leaves her, standing before her as she sternly watches him. He hooks his fingers through the straps of her panties, roughly ripping her thong down her legs and tossing it. She’s bare to him, and it’s as exhilarating as it is terrifying. She can feel herself dripping onto the duvet of his bed.

 

“Fucking gorgeous.” She clenches at that word. Whenever he swears, she can feel her clit throb in response.

 

He kicks off the jeans draping his ankles, he shoves his hand quickly into his briefs, licking his lips as he watches her squirm inside her skin. She has to roll her neck, looking off into the distance to keep from cumming on contact. He knows he’s sexy, no one in the world could rebut that. Why is he still torturing her with it?

 

She refuses to look when she hears the dresser drawer open and close, still won’t make contact when he’s fumbling with foil. It’s when she feels the weight of the bed shift beside her, she looks at him, staring back at her with something much more intense than lust.

 

“Say again that we’ll get another date.”

 

“I want nothing more than to go out with you…again.” She smirks.

 

“Nothing more?”

 

“Maybe something more. You would be able to supply that, too, however” she chuckles. Tired of waiting, she moves to climb onto him. He pulls them both further along the bed, only hanging off from his calves down. She’s damp against his abs, and it only turns her on more.

 

“Which words?” He asks as his hands grip her hips, lifting her from him as she adjusts herself and reaches to line him up at her core.

 

“Fuck.” She explains as she slides down his length, taking in every inch of him. “I like how it sounds when you say it.” She hits the hilt and inhales sharply.

 

His mouth is open wide in pure pleasure, and it makes her feel like she’s back in control, only stimulating her further.

 

“Cock.” She bites out, almost letting him slip out completely, his tip barely brushing the inside of her lips. “I really like that word.” She sucks in another short breathe through bared teeth as she slides back down faster than before.

 

“Cock?” It comes out sinfully breathy and she feels herself getting wetter with the sound.

 

“And cunt.” She confesses a bit less confidently, too affected by him repeating the last word. “If you’re gonna call it anything, call it my cunt.” She’s at the hilt again, pressing her hips forward to stretch herself for him. His eyes are shut tight and she swears she’s closer to cumming than he is just by the sight.

 

She learns then and there, she likes him helpless to her. The way he takes control is hot, but when he’s putty in her hands, she finds it the most erotic.

 

The pace she uses picks up quickly, needing to reach something closer than this before he blows. And he sound close almost immediately after they hit that ‘skin-slapping’ speed. He has his feet pressed flat against the bed, thrusting up against her, so she gives her thighs a rest, riding the wave of his lust.

 

“Fuck, Emma you feel so fucking good.” She clenches against him, she wasn’t kidding about the way it sounds. “Love, ride my cock. I want you to cum around it.” He’s panting and it’s driving her insane. She leans forward, falling on her palms placed beside his head. Her chest is bouncing in his face, and he leans up just enough to take a nipple into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. She cries out, heightening how close to a climax she is.

 

He cums before she can. It’s with a broken moan and him whimpering her name over and over; but she’s too close to give up. She brings her fingers to her clit, furiously rubbing circles and rocking back and forth on his still-hard cock. His hand is cupping her breast, the other kneading the flesh of her ass until she bursts around him. He’s still moaning for her, and she can’t contain the gasping cries she lets out for him.

 

She sags against him as soon as the brightness behind her eyes disappears. Desperate for breath and closeness, she directs his arms around her back and burrows her nose into his neck, and she stays this way until her heart calms down against his.

 

—/—

 

She wakes to him turning them over, completely unaware she ever dozed off. Good sex does that, apparently. (Because it was good, despite whatever inhibitions he held.)

 

He notices her eyes opening, pressing a kiss just above one. “You’re perfect, you must know. Absolutely perfect.” and there’s so much adoration in his eyes, she gets anxious. He’s slipping away seconds later to get cleaned up and she starts to think of ways to leave.

 

She sits up as he’s gone off to the bathroom and feels a ‘leaking’ sensation. Irrational fear slams into her, she’s jumping to her feet and wiping at her thighs to find cum smeared across her fingertips. She doesn’t have a chance to panic further as Killian rushes from the bathroom.

 

“Emma!”

 

“I know, i just…” She swallows the urge to freak out, remembers that she got the Depo shot. Everything’s fine. _Everything’s fine, Emma._

 

His hand gently wraps around her arm, tugging to get her attention. “I… I didn’t feel it break, Emma, I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. It’s fine. I’m on birth control anyway.” She shrugs, shaking off his hand in the process. His eyes widen and he’ll probably get a fever from her hot-and-cold bullshit; but old habits die hard, and she hears her demons now telling her to get out. “I’m gonna head home, though”

 

“Home?” His jaw is slack and his eyes are full of disbelief with a little hurt washed in.

 

She tells herself not to look in his eyes, swears she’ll regret looking in his eyes, but… but he hooks his finger under his chin, lifting her gaze to meet his.

 

And she remembers that she trusts him more than the demons now. He’s kinder, more caring and worth too much to compromise now.

 

“N-nevermind… I—I’ll stay. Do you have sweats or something? Let me just get cleaned up, and we can… I don’t know. I’ll stay.”

 

“Emma…”

 

“No, Killian, I’ll stay.” she whispers, crossing her arms over her chest and suddenly feeling too vulnerable to stand before him bare like this. Her clothes are thrown about, but this moment is the first she’s felt truly naked.

 

He cups the back of her head, bringing her forward and planting a kiss to her forehead. She wraps her arms around him instead. It feels better, less lonely this way. He wraps his arms around her in return, pulling her to his chest. Maybe if he just keeps her here, close to him, it will keep her fears at bay.

 

—/—

 

 


	6. Barriers Unprotected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to everyone who leaves kudos, comments or bookmarks. You guys are all so wonderful. 
> 
> As is my beta, RavenclawPianist.

**Barriers Unprotected**

 

She’s wrestling awake beside him, and it’s only a few hours since they’ve gone to bed. He knows her anxious reaction to anything too ‘involved’ is getting the best of her, even in her sleeping state.

 

Part of him wonders if it would have been better to let her leave; for her sake of course. He’s reveling in the feel of her in his arms, in his bed.

 

(In his life)

 

“Emma?”

 

“Sorry.” She mutters, turning deeper into his embrace to smother the exasperated exhale she releases. “This is new. I usually sleep alone, in my bed.”

 

“S’that what you want right now? Your bed?”

 

“No.” She huffs. “I’m glad I stayed.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” She whispers “I just…I’m not use to being like this. I feel…vulnerable.” She pulls back, lifting her head to watch his reaction, and he stays as neutral as he can.

 

“Would it, maybe, make it better if I told you something to make me vulnerable too?”

 

A second ticks by as her eyes widen, that same ‘I’m-not-worth-your-effort’ look appears in her eyes and he wants to find a way to stamp it out for good.

 

“You’d do that?”

 

“Turn over, I don’t need you watching me spill my secrets.” He grins to let her know it’s safe, he’s safe. He’s never been the type to hurt, only ever be hurt.

 

She turns in his hold, facing the large windows and letting the pale moonlight wash over her skin. He covers her with sheets more comfortably, settling his hand above the sweatpants on her waist and pressing a kiss to her cotton-clad shoulder.

 

“Hmmm… where to start.”

 

“The beginning?” He fixes her with a glare, but she can’t see it turned from him. He supposes that’s the point.

 

“What a marvelous idea, lass, why don’t I start at the beginning?” She laughs and he is already washed over with a sense of accomplishment. “Well, I was quite fond of this woman, over a year ago…”

 

He’s not sure if this makes any sense at all, bringing up an ex-lover. He’s not sure if he should give the details of the relationship, but he’s sure it makes him vulnerable. He just wants to level the playing field for her; not that they’ll ever be leveled, he will always want her 1000 times more than she wants him. She just can’t see that.

 

“…At the time, I thought she had left her husband to be with me. That sort of sacrifice makes love come easily, right? So I did my best to be worth it, to do everything on her terms because if she’s willing to end a marriage for me, I should be willing to do anything for her…”

 

And the details continue, dragging out the reality of his last heartbreak. He mentions the facts he still can’t forget, the way she hid away with him from the world, but he believed at the time it was the age gap that embarrassed her. He brings up the intricate way she never wanted to meet his family. He even adds how their rendezvous occurred after hours and always somewhere off the grid.

 

“She had only visited my apartment once. The night she broke things off.”

 

“She dumped you? Did she say why?”

 

“It was three days after the accident. I was in the process of figuring everything out and I needed someone.” He can hear the weakness coming back through his voice, and maybe if she hears it, she won’t feel like running for cover, she won’t fear him. “She finally came when I called, but when I mentioned the way things would be, mentioned my guardianship over Ellie…”

 

Emma turns abruptly in his arms, wrapping her leg around his waist, anchoring her hand at the back of his neck and meeting his emotional eyes.

 

“She said she didn’t leave a husband…and _child_ behind to play ‘mommy’ and wife all over again. She wants freedom, not responsibility.”

 

“Ellie is a fucking gift, and she’s an asshole.”

 

“She’s a free-spirit and she never left him for me. On some level, it’s much better that way. I had no idea she had a child with the man, and I’d want no part of anyone abandoning their child for me.”

 

“You thought it was a relationship, and she was just using you for sex. She’s an asshole, Killian.” Emma reiterates, “And she has no idea what she’s missing. How many women in the world want a guy like you? A guy who cooks, and is clean as hell, and is the best damn father-figure I’ve ever seen…”

 

“Are you one of those women?” She’s fighting back shock, he can tell. He caught her off guard and she’s too stunned to speak, so she nods before burying her face in his chest.

 

“Good then, because you’re the only one I care about.”

 

—/—

 

They wake the next morning, slowly and it’s peppered with the sweetest of kisses and the most adoring touches he’s experienced in his life.

 

But she’s still the flighty woman he silently fought to get her to stay the night before. So she’s polite when declining breakfast invitations. She rises from his bed, her long tresses the last to leave his touch, and he knows it’s not enough. No amount of time with her will ever be enough. He’s selfish, and she’s struggling so he tries to make it sound like it’s her choice when he begs for her to stay.

 

“Do you ever eat breakfast?”

 

“Killian.” She has her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her perfect face. “Please… baby steps?” The stern front is a flimsy facade to mask the fear welling in her eyes. She’s ‘vulnerable’ again but he’s not sure how many times he can cut himself open just to keep her from being afraid of bleeding.  

 

“I was just… wanting to learn more of you, Love. Do you ever eat breakfast? Even if it’s takeout.” She’s apprehensive, tugging at the skin of her bottom lip, her eyes lowered in insecurity, and he didn’t want that. He just wants her to stay. “Or diners you frequent?”

 

“I like this place…” she begins, rocking on the balls of her feet. “Granny’s Diner, it’s nothing special, but they don’t look at me weird when I order cinnamon on my hot cocoa.”

 

He doesn’t tell her how he loves Granny’s, or how he’s been there too many times to talk about. He won’t mention how the owner is in his phonebook as Granny, and has watched Ellie about a dozen times in a pinch. He doesn’t mention how he signs her only granddaughter’s paychecks. He doesn’t mention any of it, because it would more than likely scare her off.

 

“Ellie likes cinnamon on her cocoa, too.” She beams at that, to herself of course, but he knows somehow, that if Ellie were here right now, he’d have at least twenty percent more of a chance to get her to stay.

 

Ellie has a way to Emma, a way to make her bend her rules and soften her exterior and he wishes he had that power, because he’s seen glimpses of what’s hidden behind her walls, and he wants so much more.

 

“Maybe the three of us could go sometime?” She shrugs, swaying closer to the bed, and he slowly moves to her edge, sliding his legs off the sides when he gets there.

 

“You are so gorgeous in the morning, Love.” He whispers, reaching out for her hands, but letting her decide when to reach back. She takes them, grinning even wider than before. “And that smile… heavens above help me when you smile.”

 

“You’re being mushy and gross, cut it out.”

 

“Make me.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip despite the fact that he was slightly joking. The reality is, after a dry spell, simply tasting water doesn’t quite quench his thirst and he needs so much more of her.

 

The way she watches him has him thinking, just maybe, she’ll stay awhile.

 

“I…I should go.” She drops his hands and backs away slowly. “Last night was amazing. You are amazing and I want to keep seeing you…just… baby steps?”

 

“Of course.”

 

(She takes giant steps toward the door, but stalls when he’s kissing her goodbye.)

 

—/—

 

She’s managed a whole work week without him.

 

By without him, of course she means without physically having him. She hasn’t managed an hour without texting him unless their sleeping, in which she’s dreaming about him. They talk until dawn on the phone, and it’s not okay the way she feels talking to him. It’s not okay how she can’t think of anything without her mind rushing back to him.

 

He was under her skin, now he’s sneaking beneath her muscles, burrowing between tissue and veins and it’s not okay. It’s terrifying and exciting but nothing that could be classified as ‘okay’ because beneath her muscles, the fatty tissue, the veins are organs and bones.

 

And that’s where she carries heartache.

 

Some people wear it in their face. Wives of the scumbags she tracks down acquire dark bags beneath their somber eyes. It’s a warning label in her opinion, preaching ‘Never trust a lying thief.’

 

(That’s a label she’s read before and ignored)

 

She’s seen children bury it in their mannerisms, the way they function in crowds, the way they function alone. They fidget when people get too close, they shake when people get too far away. They tug at the skin of their lips, or bite at their nails, or suck on their thumbs because it keeps the hurt from flying out of their mouths in a sob or a shout. She was once that child, abandoned and afraid, but speaking about it only made her feel more unheard than ever.

 

But she’s not a child anymore, and she hides all the telltale signs of being an orphan.  She doesn’t scratch at her scalp in frustration, she locks the anger in her chest, lets it burn into iron and continues to harden herself to the world. And she doesn’t smear pain on her face, she aches in her teeth so badly that it hurts to talk.

 

When Neal left her the way he did, she didn’t cry, she buried the betrayal deep in her liver on nights she needed to drown the pain in liquor; in her lungs when she thought holding her breath meant holding her hurt; then finally her bones, deep within the marrow to keep from getting out.

 

Somehow, the depth doesn’t seem to stop Killian. He looks at her like he’s ready to dive in deep and she doesn’t doubt he’ll achieve what no one else has and retrieve her history. She’s just really afraid of what he’ll do with it once he does.

 

But she tells herself he’s not Neal. He doesn’t have that capacity of self-hatred that’s required to betray others. He’s too sincere, too caring and much too compassionate. He talks about his ex like she’s some butterfly, too happy flying to land when in reality, she was a fucking wasp, and needed to get her stinger confiscated.

 

She wonders what he’ll say about her if this all goes south. She wonders if he says anything about her now, and to who? He’s met her only friend, but she’s never even heard of his. The idea of wanting that all to change is overwhelming and a bit telling of how invested she’s ready to be with this.

 

So she gets him cupcakes.

 

It’s Friday and she’s left work, telling August she’s out to do some ‘recon.’

 

Well she’s not lying.

 

Over the last two weeks, August tracked ‘Will Scarlet’ to Jolly Roger Inc. Emma doesn’t mention how that’s Killian’s company name, but she also doesn’t think she necessarily needs to. She’s convinced August knows more about Mr. Jones than she does.

 

(Maybe he knows the name of his best friend.)

 

“Welcome to Jolly Roger, how may I help you?” The building is classically beautiful, the woman standing behind the reception desk however—anything but.

 

She’s thin and tall and some sort of indie model type. She’s beautiful, for being so fucking hipster. She has long dark hair and a tiny little dress on with a tribal looking cardigan. She’s leaning over another mousy looking thing, pointing at the computer screen when she speaks to Emma. She doesn’t even make eye contact, and it would be intimidating if she didn’t deal with rude men most of the time.

 

“I’m looking for Killian, er… Jones. Killian Jones.”

 

“Killian ‘Er’ Jones?  Do you have an appointment?” She straightens up and Emma thinks the woman grew another three feet. The girl beside her smiles wistfully before standing from her chair beside the first woman. She seems softer, gentler and less… trendy.

 

“What Ruby meant to ask was, whom may we say is looking for him?”

 

“Emma.”

 

All at once, Emma can hear jaws dropping all over the place, starting with the two women in front of her.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” ‘Ruby’ quickly apologizes. “We’re just a bit protective over Killian’s time here.” The girl beside Ruby nods quickly, extending a hand.

 

“I’m Alice and this is Ruby. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

“Great.” Emma smiles to Alice, refusing any further eye-contact with her co-worker. “So…can I see Killian?”

 

“Of course.” Ruby smiles, swinging around the desk to reveal just how short her dress is. “I’m actually heading up to hand him these files from my boss. I can escort you.” She fakes a smile to keep appearances, but she won’t just forget the snotty way Ruby acted toward her initially.

 

“Bye Emma, it was great meeting you.” Alice chirps out as they walk toward the elevator.

 

And she’s had her fair share of awkward elevator rides living in the city, but this is a world all it’s own. She would kill for quiet stares, not this jabbering that Ruby seems so good at all of a sudden.

 

“Killian was super bummed when he thought you hated him after the first date, but I could totally tell when you two went out again. He bought the office donuts, which I only ate one of despite the fact that he brought enough for us each to take like twelve home.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Mmhm, and Ellie is going to be stoked the moment she sees you walk out of the elevator.”

 

Everything Ruby had said before mentioning Ellie was just driving the annoyance level higher and higher, but it had been almost two weeks and Emma misses that little girl; somehow, just the mention of her name makes Emma’s heart ache tenderly.

 

“She’s here?” Emma notices her enthusiastic tone of voice, and tries her best to tone it down. “Does she uh… spend a lot of time here?”

 

“Uhm, some days she gets wicked separation anxiety. It’s not often, maybe once or twice a month, but on those days, Killian brings her in with him and she spends the day doing my job.” Ruby snorts and Emma finds herself liking her just a tad bit more. Pretty model types with dorky laughs aren’t nearly as intimidating. “I mean, we all need mental health days, but aren’t all as mature as Queen Eloise in articulating that. I call in saying I have strep after a boyfriend breaks up with me, she flat out says she needs to see that he’s ‘okay’ all day.”

 

“I guess we can all stand to be more like Ellie, then.”

 

“She’s a gem.” The elevator dings at the third floor and Ruby ushers her out. There are few offices here, a fishbowl-style board room and a million framed pictures of boats. Ruby leads her toward a small, round man sitting at a large desk, wearing a very casual red beanie. Emma’s a little concerned at the type of business Killian is running here.

 

“Smee, this is _the_ ‘Emma Swan.’” The hat is pulled from his head to his chest so quickly as he rises to his feet; but quicker than that is the pace at which a tiny blonde beauty runs from a door-less room and into Emma’s legs.

 

“Emma!” She squeals before impact. She finds she can’t control her heart as it clenches, tightening in her chest and dropping her to her knees so she can properly hug Ellie. “Oh, Emma I missed you so much!”

 

“I missed you too, kid.” she reaches up to set the box of cupcakes on the ledge of ‘Smee’s’ desk before burying Ellie deep in her embrace. She holds her and thinks of the woman who didn’t want to be a part of this. How could anyone not want to be a part of this?

 

“You look pretty.” Ellie whispers before pulling away to get a good look at her. “I missed looking at your pretty face and hair. Uncle Kilo says you guys had a sleepover the same night I had a sleepover at Allie’s.”

 

There’s a little gasp from behind one of her shoulders and she doesn’t necessarily want to disappear, but maybe pretend Ellie didn’t just say that.

 

“I wish I knew that. I always go to Allie’s house, but I never had a sleepover with you. We could have ate ice cream and stuff.”

 

“Yeah…” Emma fakes a pout and stamps out all thoughts of ice cream with Killian Jones. “Maybe we could do it again, make tents in the living room and bake cookies?”

 

“Yes!” Ellie bounces on her heels, her eyes illuminating with so much joy, Emma has to sink her teeth in her bottom lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. It feels so good to make Ellie smile, why would anyone not want this? “You are so my very favorite ever!”

 

“You’re my…very favorite ever, too.” Emma whispers in response, brushing back the gentle curl that frames Ellie’s face. “I brought you a cupcake.” There’s something sneaky in the way Ellie’s eyes pan up to the box above her.

 

“I’m waiting to go to lunch with Uncle Kilo.” Ellie says very dubiously, “We have to ask him if I can eat one, I think.”

 

“Of course.” Emma wonders where her ethics form from. If it’s something she’s naturally endowed with, or a product of the people who surround her. And it says a lot, for a child this young to have such a moral compass. She’s not sure she was ever this good.

 

“He should be right out.” A voice from above the cupcake box calls out and reminds her where they are. Maybe she entered the world of Ellie and Emma, but they are very much in someone else’s world altogether: _Killian_ _’s_.

 

She rises to face the man she never finished being introduced to.

 

“Right. I’m sorry, I think I was in the middle of meeting you? Emma.” She extends her hand toward him with a smile and a nod.

 

“William Smeegle, but everyone calls me Smee.”

 

“Hmm, Smee of Jolly Roger”Emma notes with a tilt to her head. “Sounds like a fairytale.”

 

“We love fairytales.” Ellie intertwines her hand with Emma’s. “Emma and I saw Cinderella and we loved it.”

 

“Right, I remember you mentioning that.” Smee smiles down at Ellie. “My dear queen, would you do me a huge favor and grab those copies?”

 

“Oh, of course Mr. Smee. I’m sorry, I forgot ‘cause I heard Emma’s name.”

 

“Very understandable.”  Ellie nods quickly before releasing Emma’s hand and scampering back from the room of which she came.

 

“A one Will Scarlet is in the office of a very petulant-looking Killian Jones.” Smee speaks softly to Ruby, but his round face is full of theatrical emotion. Emma’s interest is certainly peaked, but she’s desperate not to let it show, instead pretending she’s reading the label on the cupcake box.

 

“Smee, you rat! You were supposed to let me know the minute it happened!” Ruby reaches her long arm across the desk to smack his shoulder. “Can you hear anything?”

 

“No, unfortunately he’s using his ‘inside voice’ but I'm almost certain he’s chewing him out over that lousy excuse of a draft during the last board meeting.”

 

“I wouldn't doubt that. Did you see the ‘dimensions’” Ruby uses air quotes, speaking with disgust. “He has no fucking idea what he’s doing.”

 

“Who… Uh, who is this?”

 

“Will Scarlet. He’s been in the company less than 4 months, and already convinced my boss to talk Killian into letting him spearhead the UK presentation. Killian, of course is freaking out because this account meant everything to Liam. He's been working a year straight to even get a meeting with the rep from the Royal Navy.” Ruby doesn’t seem to use discretion when airing the company’s business. She’s speaking freely, but Emma can’t complain because she’s doing the ‘Recon’ she promised August she would.

 

Four months ago the case came in, said Knavelson was stateside and looking for work in Boston. He found it, it’s just uncanny that it happens to be at her… Killian’s company.

 

“Not to discredit Robin. He truly believed he was doing the same service for Scarlet that Liam did for him.”

 

“Robin?”

 

“Robin Locksley?” The easiness just disappeared. Smee is watching her suspiciously as Ruby continues to try and jog her memory on a matter that was never there. “The company VP, one of Killian’s best friends?”

 

“Killian hasn’t mentioned Robin before?” Smee questions, pure accusation in his voice. She doesn’t want to feel offended, but she thinks she’s already there by the tremor in her knuckles.

 

“No.”

 

“Oh…” he says. And Ruby mouths it too, as she glances over Emma with something like disappointment; like, maybe Emma is imagining the intimacy, maybe Killian isn’t all that into her. She thinks, maybe he’s digging through tissue, muscle and veins and she’s barely brushing the epidermis.

 

And maybe that’s her fault. Maybe she’s never asked the right questions. They haven’t talked about much in the ways of his life, just Ellie and little tidbits about work. He doesn’t mention his brother or sister-in-law, and she wouldn’t even know their names if it weren’t for Mary Margaret.

 

She finds she knows more about Will Knavelson-Scarlet than she does the man she’s been seeing for the last month now.

 

“You know…will you just make sure he gets these.” She presses the cupcakes further toward Smee and takes a slow step back, contemplating whether or not running is the right thing to do when Ellie comes out of the copy room with a load of papers and a smile she’s sending just Emma’s way.

 

“Okay, I did my work, Mr. Smee.” Ellie presents the papers to Ruby, because Smee is too far and they look awfully heavy. It takes probably a second before she’s reaching for Emma’s hand all over again, and the will to leave dwindles as each tiny finger tip presses against her tremor-free knuckles. “Maybe you and me and Uncle Kilo can all eat lunch together?”

 

“Actually, Emma was just leaving, Ellie bean.” Ruby fakes a pout.

 

“No she’s not.” Ellie argues, tugging Emma’s hand tight to her waist. “She just got here, Ruby.”

 

“Yeah, and now she said she’s gonna go.” Ruby challenges and for the life of her, Emma has no idea why. “Didn't you say you were going, Emma?”

 

She’s not sure whether to be sweet or sour here, because she senses a challenge and she’s never been one to take those lightly. She opens her mouth to let the closest words fall out when the door to the closest office opens right along with it.

 

Her jaw only drops lower when the target she’s been staring at for months stares back at her in something akin to interest.

 

“Well, we certainly hire the most lovely of lasses, don’t we?” And she hopes to god this isn’t his attempt at flirting, because Emma will need to abort all missions and throw herself in the closest shower, stat.

 

“Mr. Scar, this is my Emma.” Ellie begins the introduction before Killian has a chance to follow the man out of what appears to be _his_ office.

 

“Swan?”

 

“Swan? No, no, she’s more like a dove. Swans are nasty beasts, doves, classy, like a bottle of—”

 

“Scarlet. Get off my damn floor.” Killian orders, no room for argument allotted. Will turns on his heels to meet Killian’s eyes, ready to argue anyhow, no doubt.

 

“Oy mate, can’t a man behave as a proper gent on occasion. It’s rude to be in the presence of such a beauty and not say a word.”

 

“You’ve said too many words already.” Killian has this smoldering look in his eyes that has Emma flushing all over. It’s sexy and fierce and a tad bit frightening, but she finds she likes the fear.

 

“Right then.” Scarlet nods before turning back to Emma with something almost sincere. “Apparently I’ve upset ya boyfriend. He’s a bit overprotective, no? Might tread carefully, Emma, you are much too beautiful to be abused.”

 

“See, everyone thinks you’re beautiful.” Ellie grins up at her, still keeping her hand hostage.

 

“Everyone is too beautiful to be abused.” Emma replies with endearment. “I’d hate to have to mark up that mug of yours.”

 

She gives him credit, he doesn’t even bat an eyelash, apparently use to idle threats. He does scrap his tongue along his teeth before producing a fake smile for her, and a more sincere one for Eloise.

 

It’s when he reaches out to brush his knuckles across her sweet little jaw that Emma’s resolve snaps. He’s already walking off, but she tugs Ellie close to her, cupping her face and wiping the scum from it as subtly as she can. Innocent little girls like Ellie should never be touched by criminals like that man. She doesn’t care if it’s genuine, he’s genuinely a bad guy and Emma wants to protect Ellie from the likes of him.

 

“Ruby?” Killian has turned to face the two employees left standing, as they watch him carefully in return.

 

“I uh, walked Emma up.” Ruby shrugs but doesn’t take her eyes off Killian’s.

 

“Well, she’s up.”

 

“Right.” Ruby nods, before moving past Emma and Ellie without so much as a glance in her direction.

 

“Smee, go to lunch. Take Ruby, and get out of the building. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars and do not breathe a word to Locksley. Are we clear?”

 

“Crystal.” He nods as well, fleeing quickly to follow behind Ruby.

 

Seconds tick by and the reminder that she was headed out the door moments ago is keeping her conflicted. She doesn’t necessarily want to leave now, but the offense taken between Ruby’s 180 and Robingate 2015 is still lingering.

 

Then he regards her with such cautious eyes as he approaches closer.

 

She breaks.

 

“Who is Robin?”

 

“Hello Killian, how are you?” He jests, reaching out and tucking a hair behind her ear before leaning into her. His lips feel like the first sign of sun after staying out all night. He’s giving her some weird sense of accomplishment, like she’s satisfied she’s held out long enough to see him again. “Mmm.” He sighs when he pulls away keeping his eyes closed for a second like he’s pretty damn content now too.

 

“Killian?”

 

“Hmm.” His eyes open and the brilliant blue is daring her to keep things pleasant.

 

“How come you’ve never mentioned Robin before?” Because she never backs down from a dare.

 

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, I just hadn’t expected to?”

 

“Are you serious right now?”

 

“She brought us cupcakes.” Ellie interjects, pressing her palm to Emma’s stomach in a request for attention. “One special for me, an also maybe we could have a sleep over. With cookies and tents.”

 

“Yeah?” Killian crouches down, wrapping his arms around Ellie and meeting Emma’s eyes from a different level now. They’re just as daring, playful even. “Am I invited?”

 

“Absolutely not.” She spits out, forgetting that just because Ellie can’t understand everything in context, doesn’t mean she can’t pick up on tones.

 

“What’s wrong?” Ellie wriggles from Killian’s hold and presses both hands flat against Emma’s waist. “Why are you mad?”

 

Killian keeps his eyes locked on Emma’s, the dare dissipating from them.

 

“I’m… I’m not.” She lies. “I should go, let you both get lunch and what not.”

 

“Come with us?” Ellie pleads, “I missed you so much and you were away but now you’re here and you’re coming to my house for a sleepover.”

 

“Ellie, why don’t you go ask Uncle Robin if he wants us to pick up something for him.” Ellie doesn’t move her hands from Emma’s waist.

 

“Please don’t leave, I’ll be right back.” Ellie vows with her wide eyes expressing the upmost seriousness.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“I promise.”  Satisfied, Ellie scrambles down the hall. Killian is slow to rise from his crouched position, but when he does his hands are immediately on her, pulling her toward his office without any warning, without any words.

 

“Killian.” Her tone is biting, but he keeps her close to him regardless, and it’s only when they’re in the doorframe that he lets go of her waist to cup her face.

 

“He’s my business partner, my brother’s oldest friend, and the closest thing I have to family right now. He’s also… incredibly nosy and thinks he has to fill Liam’s shoes by teasing me over everything. This thing between us is too damn fragile for me to let him near you, but no doubt Ellie will be returning with him by her side.” He licks his lips at a quicker pace than normal, his eyes scanning over her face like he wants to memorize it just in case things go south the second she meets Robin. “Swan, he’s going to be an arse, he’s going to poke fun at this, and quite possibly refer to you as… as my ‘girlfriend’ and I know you want to take baby steps, and I’m trying to give you that. I thought if I protected this from him for long enough, I’d have a better chance at keeping you.”

 

“Killian…I…I really like you.”  She grips his wrists, tugging them downward. His hands slip to her shoulders, as fear flickers in his eyes. “I brought you stupid cupcakes because I like you that much and I just wanted to see you. Maybe… maybe baby steps are too small. Maybe Ellie-sized steps?”

 

He presses his lips to hers in reply, showing how grateful he is to move up in the world of little feet.

 

Which is what ends the kiss, the sound of Ellie’s feet pattering back down toward them, followed by a slower stride.

 

“Fuck.” He breathes against her lips before taking a second to exhale and move away. Even now, a completely different situation, she feels her heart pick up pace from his voice alone.

 

“Uncle Robin this is my Emma.” Ellie reaches between the small space Killian is keeping Emma within to wrap her arms around Emma. “We are each other’s favorites.” When she turns to look, she’s staring at a slightly older man, dark, ash brown hair and blue eyes that pale in comparison to the Jones clan. He’s not a bad looking guy, she wonders if he’s married, if maybe Killian doesn’t just have him, but his whole family too.

 

“Nice to meet you Emma.” Killian makes some unintelligible sound before moving from the doorframe and into his office.

 

“Nice to meet you…Robin.” She keeps one hand resting on Ellie’s shoulder while extending the other to the man before her.

 

“I’ve heard so much about you between these two here. And Ellie says you’re very pretty, but I’m learning it’s time to teach her better adjectives. You’re a gorgeous woman. Killian really doesn’t deserve you.”

 

“And there it is!” Killian groans from across his office, burying his head in his arms as he leans against a file cabinet. A second stretches, giving both Robin and Emma time to watch the fit Killian is throwing.

 

“You bring out the juvenile in him, you know.”  Robin wears this shit-eating grin now, with the crinkles and lines of his face in full view. It’s clear he stores happiness here and she thinks he has to have a family, something substantial to go home to, because there’s no way a lonely man can smile this brightly after losing his best friend. “After you all went out the first time, the poor git spent the next week moping about and ignoring his employees.”

 

In hindsight, she’s relieved Killian warned her about his teasing. He has good reason not to want them speaking, but she’s eating up the words Robin is spitting out. She doesn’t want to further embarrass Killian, so she laughs silently to Robin’s amusement. He seems satisfied as he straightens himself up.

 

“I have a meeting in a few minutes, but we should all get together again. I’ll bring Roland, he loves a pretty blonde. Right Eloise?”

 

“Right.” Ellie chuckles, her head still pressed against Emma’s hip. “Robin is Roland’s daddy. You’ll love Roland. He’s good at playing legos.”

 

“A quality every girl should look for.” Emma says with a chuckle.

 

“Uncle Kilo is good too.” Ellie attempts one of Killian’s signature winks, but uses both eyes and she thinks she likes it better that way.

 

“Well, I won’t take up anymore of your time. It was great meeting you Emma.”

 

“You too.”

 

—/—

 

He takes her to Granny’s Diner. At first she thinks he’s flaunting his amazing memory and attention to every little detail about her.

 

Then a chorus greets them when they walk through the door. The old woman who owns the joint lifts Ellie in her freaking arms and kisses her while Ellie squeals and cheers for ‘Granny.’ Ellie calls her Granny and Killian kisses her cheek before sitting at their ‘usual’ booth and somewhere between walking through and sitting down, Emma wonders what makes him such a secretive little shit.

 

“Are you kidding?”

 

“I just wanted you to stay.” He whispers, settling Ellie next to him and handing her the menu. “I worry the alarming amount of chances we’ve had to run into each other would scare you.”

 

She quickly recognizes what he’s playing at. Ellie would have been in Mary Margaret’s class this fall regardless. She could have easily run into him here, she comes about three times a month and he doesn’t know this last instance, but Knavelson would have brought her to his office building sooner or later.  

 

(And he’s correct in thinking she’d scare easily at the idea of ‘fate’.)

 

He tells her this is Ruby’s grandmother’s place, that she’s been there for them since before the accident. He worked here in high school as a dishwasher, again a few years ago when Granny had a heart attack and Ruby was only 19 and terrified. She remembers what it’s like to be 19 and terrified, and quickly let’s go of any ill-feelings toward Ruby. She’s family to Killian, and was probably just trying to protect him.

 

And maybe he needs protection from her.

 

Granny makes her way over and they meet and she’s nice for being so bold, she calls her something like ‘older Ellie’ and Ellie just eats it up with the most adorable giggle. Turns out, they order the same thing, grilled cheese with onion rings, while Killian orders fish ‘n chips.

 

Ellie makes comments in between bites about how much fun this sleepover is going to be, and she realizes that maybe they both need protection from her.

 

Because for the first time in her life, Emma has no doubt that someone cares about her, and that someone is a very cute, very loving blonde sitting across from her. And she’s in too deep to not be let down by Emma if she leaves.

 

And now there’s that much more pressure to not mess this up, because he’s one thing, one beautiful, amazing thing, but Ellie is another. If this goes south, there will be three broken hearts here, her own included.

 

And all of them have been through enough hurt to last a lifetime.

 

—/—

 

It’s been a week, but she walks through his apartment, and he knows for sure this time she’s staying the night. She doesn’t wear a tightly fitted dress, but the sweats she borrowed last Sunday, and a softball shirt with Peter Pan and Wendy flying across it.

 

“I love Peter Pan” Ellie compliments from her position beside his leg. “That is so cute, Emma. You are so cute.”

 

“You are so cute, Ellie.” Emma chuckles as she slings her bag over her arm and crouches to hug Ellie. “Thanks for inviting me. I’ve never had a slumber party.”

 

“Really?” Ellie gasps, pulling away just enough to press her forehead to Emma’s. “That is so sad.”

 

“Sorry, she’s been doing that close talking thing lately. We’re working on it.” Killian frowns as he lightly tugs Ellie from Emma.

 

“It’s okay, I think it’s cute.” Emma wraps her arms tighter around Ellie, pressing their foreheads back together. “Because we’re each other’s favorites.”

 

“Yeah,” Ellie sighs in contentment and his heart is too full to say anything else so he walks away to the kitchen. He plans on staying out of their way. This is their sleepover tonight, not his and despite how badly he wants Emma in his bed, he wants Ellie’s happiness a little bit more.

 

It’s five minutes later, and he’s heard the door close and Emma and Ellie shuffle into the living room for a moment, but his back is turned as he alphabetizes the spice rack. He’s not sure what to do with himself. He has a book or two he’s been meaning to read. He could take care of some work from home, but he feels maybe he should supervise anything they plan on doing that involves this kitchen.

 

“Hey?” She’s so close and it’s now when she gets to his space, but isn’t in his arms, that he longs for her most. It’s the hardest to be close but not close enough.

 

He turns to face her, her eyes full of something that looks a lot like happiness.

 

“Ellie says you have real tents? I thought maybe sheet forts, but…”

 

“She likes the idea of camping like her Aunt Anna does.” Killian laughs as he moves to walk past her, but she steps into his way.

 

“Hi.” She whispers, her hand on his chest instantly.

 

“Hey.” He pretends not to notice the glance to his lips, or the way she licks her own. “You want me to grab that tent?”

 

“In a second.” Her second hand finds its anchor in the hair at the nape of his neck. She sways into him and he fights the urge to lay her down on the counter for the second week in a row.

 

She’s beautiful like this, makeup-free, fresh-faced and comfortable. He likes that she’s wearing his sweats. He likes more that she’s at this level with him, they’ve been on a handful of dates, but he swears when she’s here in his home like this, they feel like long-term lovers.

 

“Swan?”

 

“Kiss me.” She whispers within the small space between their lips. “And then go find something to do. I can’t watch you watching us with that sweet face like we’re newborn puppies.” He exhales a laugh and denies her kiss for a second longer to appreciate her.

 

But he kisses her, soft and sweet and satisfyingly short. Her lips cling to his when he pulls away, she leans forward and he loves the way she always wants more.

 

“I’ll be right back with your tent.”

 

—/—

 

They burn the first batch of cookies and Emma and Ellie come crawling into his bed with the most adorable pouts asking him to help them make another. He says he’ll do it, and that they should move onto their next activity.

 

“Let’s paint nails.” Ellie suggests, grabbing Emma’s hands and staring at them somberly. “Have you… have you ever done that?”

 

“Yes.” Emma takes offense briefly before recognizing Ellie to be the one she’s taken it from. “I mean… I have, I just don’t often. I could try.”

 

“Okay. I’m really good at painting nails, sometimes Uncle Kilo lets me paint his toes.”

 

“Does he?” She glances over to him, battling against the smirk rising in the space between her lips.

 

“A burden I’m willing to bear for my love bug’s happiness.”

 

—/—

 

They get their fill on cookies while Killian builds the tent. Somehow, this slumber party is shipping up to be much more work for him and almost no fun at all.

 

But he hears them both giggle as they’re stretched out on the white sofa he pushed back to the dining room table eating chocolate chip cookies. He hears it, and realizes he’s having tons of fun just being near them. Their toes are painted, their hair is braided and they’re ready for bed.

 

“Tent’s done.” he walks over to them and lifts Ellie’s long braid, letting it slip through his fingers as he admires Emma’s work, thinking how it looks like Elsa’s. “Are you ready for bed?”

 

Of course it takes Ellie a few minutes to settle down, a few minutes and a few jumping jacks. But she’s tired out and laying down beneath her Cinderella blanket beside Emma soon enough.

 

The story tonight is a quick one, possibly unnecessary with Emma right beside her. She’s turned from him, facing her new favorite person and he feels like he’s talking to himself for most of it.

 

“Is the whole kingdom sleepy too?”

 

“No, just the princess.” Killian explains softly as he strokes her back. “Horseback riding and slaying dragons is a bit tiresome, Love Bug. But after a good night’s sleep, she wakes to find the kingdom safe and the people grateful.”

 

“Okay.” Ellie turns toward him with a satisfied smile. “I am very sleepy. I love you to the moon.”

 

“And I love you further.” He leans in to kiss her brow, but when he pulls back, she cups his cheek.

 

“You have to give Emma a night kiss too.” She whispers as softly as she ever has, but it’s a small space and he can see Emma grinning in his peripheral. He nods his understanding before reaching over Ellie to press a kiss to Emma’s cheek.

 

“Goodnight lovelies.”

 

—/—

 

Killian’s been gone five minutes when Ellie turns into her side, snuggling close and tight. She’s been struggling to remain calm all evening, but she’s so incandescently happy right now, it’s unhealthy. It’s unorthodox, to just suddenly become consumed with joy because of one tiny little person’s presence.

 

“You’re so pretty, Emma, and fun and great.” Ellie sighs into this relaxed state like she’s known Emma her whole life and they’re just that comfortable together.

 

“You’re so pretty, Ellie. You’re perfect.”

 

“Why do you always do that?” Emma watches her sweet face, uninterrupted by curiosity as she keeps her eyes shut. “Why when I say something about you, you always say stuff back.”

 

“Because it’s true. I think it’s more true for you than me.” She doesn’t resist the urge to smooth her fingertips across Ellie’s cheek. Ellie’s eyes flutter open and watch her with a distance she’s never seen in them before.

 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to wait ‘til I say it first. Uncle Kilo says that if you feel something, you say it then. Maybe there is not time later.”

 

“Alright… Ellie, I’m so happy you invited me, I love spending time with you, and you’re really special to me.” She exhales shakily like she’s going to face rejection over confessing her affection toward a child. She feels her gut tremor with anxiousness.

 

“I love you too, Emma.” She smiles something so sweet it aches in Emma’s teeth, it grumbles in her stomach and she needs something bitter to wash it down with. “Night, my Emma.”

 

She swallows the lump in her throat and forces out a gentle reply “Night, my Ellie.”

 

—/—

 

The second Ellie hits R.E.M, Emma is up and padding across the hardwood to Killian’s door.

 

In hindsight, she had planned on sneaking in here, but on different terms, sexier terms.

 

“Swan?”

 

She’s panicking the moment she shuts his door behind her. Her feet are pacing and her head is racing and her hands are suddenly clammy as hell. And he comes to her, eyes wide with worry and arms wide with something akin to comfort.

 

“What are we?” He chokes on the reply, she’s not sure if it’s confusion or shock, but he doesn’t let her pull away at the sound. “Killian?

 

“Whatever you want us to be. I think I’ve shown you my cards, Love.” He’s wrapping her tighter in his embrace. “Do you want to define this?”

 

“Killian, Ellie just told me she loved me.” And it comes out shaky and broken, and all the layers she’s hidden her fears beneath seem paper thin in his arms. “So if this isn’t going to work out, lets quit now, let’s be friends, but don’t… don’t just…”

 

“Calm down.” He whispers, releasing her only to pull her toward the foot of his bed and press her down to sit with him. It’s the way he tucks the hair behind her ear that makes her forget half of what’s eating at her. “Is it any wonder that she loves you? She’s a very loving child and you’re very special Emma.”

 

“If this doesn’t work out, I won’t be the only one hurt.”

 

“No, you won’t.”

 

“I can’t deal with her being hurt by me.”

 

“Then don’t hurt her.”

 

“Don’t you think that’s a lot of pressure?”

 

“No I don’t. You don’t have to date me if you don’t want to Emma, but you also don’t have to stop seeing Ellie if you stop seeing me. I could never be that cruel.” And she knows that’s the truest thing he could ever say. Because he thinks his ex is a butterfly, and she’s a wasp, and he thinks that people are genuine, and they’re shady. He thinks that she’s special…

 

“I’m not special, Killian. I’m…damaged.”

 

“I don’t notice a single flaw.” He whispers, lifting her into his lap and sliding his arms around her waist. “Now… I believe we were uhm… what’s the term? Defining the relationship?”

 

“I want this.” She mutters into his neck before pressing a kiss there. “I want you.”

 

“Right… so then you’re my…?” She lifts her head, barely high enough to rest her forehead against his cheek, the scruff of his jaw tickling at her nose.

 

“Girlfriend, if people ask, if you introduce me, if it’s necessary; but, I don’t necessarily like to be labeled as anything.”

 

“May I make a suggestion then?”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“I just call you ‘my’ Swan.”


	7. Help Requested

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bigger delay than I had anticipated, but life happens I guess. Thanks for every kudos, bookmark and comment, I wanted to reply to them, but I also wanted to get out a chapter for you guys that were waiting. 
> 
> Special thanks to RavenclawPianist for beta'ing this work!

 

Help Requested

 

“A… presentation?” It’s Monday night and Killian calls her after laying Ellie down. Just 24 hours ago she was helping him do so, but she’s in the comforts of her own bed now, alone, realizing that the loneliness isn’t so comfortable anymore.

 

It’s been official for three weeks, they’ve known each other for about two months on the grand scale, but it’s official now, and wonderful, and god, so fucking great. She loves dating him, despite still not being so great at it.

 

_“Aye, in England.”_ And he sounds distant, and she wonders if it’s because he’s thinking of the distance, thinking of spanning the distance and cutting ties here.

 

(It’s irrational, but despite the happy sphere she’s living in, she finds there is always room for that.)

 

“What does that mean?”

 

_“It means…well, it means I have to be in England by Thursday.”_

 

“When will you be back?”

 

_“Sunday.”_ He doesn’t hesitate to answer and she likes that, the strength in which he knows he’ll be back. It sorta sends the irrationality out of her space. _“Emma, I messed up.”_

(And it’s right back there.)

 

“What?”

 

_“I was supposed to get Ellie’s passport eons ago. I dropped the bloody ball and now she can’t come away with me.”_ He sounds so devastated, but she still finds reassurance that this is the mess up, not something else. _“We’ve never parted for that long, or that far. I’ll have to have Belle or Ella keep her and we have so many last minute preparations for her birthday in the next month.”_

“Let me help.” She offers, because after a minute of reveling in reassurance, his voice still stands cold and defeated in her ear. She finds she absolutely hates the sound. “Maybe I can keep Ellie while you’re gone. I spend every weekend with you guys anyway.”

 

And she’d miss her just as much as Killian.

She loves Ellie, like just really, truly loves this little girl to pieces. She loves her when she’s tired, and starts acting a bit whiny, and she loves her when she first wakes up in the morning and is so sweetly gentle and affectionate. She loves when it’s the middle of the weekend, and they’re at the park playing and at any given moment, their eyes meet and Ellie smiles at her like she matters. She looks for her, and finds her, and there is this sudden second of relief, like if she wasn’t there, it would matter.

 

She’s never felt like her presence really mattered until now.

_“Swan, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”_

 

“But you could ask someone else? Besides, you didn’t ask. I offered. I mean, if you trust me with her, I want to keep her.”

_“Of course I trust you. She’d prefer you, I’m sure. It’s just_ …” his sigh is so slow and pained, it’s troubling. _“It’s just, she gets separation anxiety. The… the counselor says she’s suffering from the loss, struggling to understand death at an age where children barely understand full sentences.”_

 

“She understands full novels, Killian.”

 

_“I know that. What I’m saying is, she can’t adapt to the idea that people will come back if they leave for too long.”_

 

“And… Anna never returning doesn’t help.” He’s quiet about his relationship with his sister, but she asked one night about the redheaded girl in the picture frames on the mantle and he spilled little secrets of his adolescence and estranged relationship with someone he once considered himself close to.

 

And it pissed Emma off. She’s tired of hearing about people who’ve left him, them. It makes no sense and it seems unfair that so many want to have family like Killian and Ellie and people keep tossing them away.

 

(She reminds herself of that whenever the urge to run whispers to her through the gentle breeze-blown curtains in his bedroom on late nights.)

 

“ _No, it doesn’t.”_ He exhales something awful and discouraged. _“The first time we skyped with her, Ellie asked if we could skype her mommy and daddy next. We’re in a constant state of adjustment, Emma. It’s not just a grieving process, Ellie is developing every day, and with new developments comes a deeper understanding. She can’t articulate it, but she thinks distance for extended periods of time means death. Three days without me, across the harbor and sea…”_

 

“Killian, let me keep her.”

_“She’s going to get like that, she’s going to be fussy, and whiny. She’s the love of my life, the joy of my existence, but she’s four and sometimes she’s demanding and needy and I don’t know if you want to take that on.”_

 

“I do.”

 

_“You're sure?”_

 

“Positive.”

_“Stay here then? I’ll leave you my car, you won’t have to fuss with the car seat, I’ll leave you my card, you can order take out every night for all I care, just make sure she doesn’t eat a pint on her own each night I’m away.”_

“That’s awfully demanding for a man who ‘couldn’t ask that of me’ a moment ago.” He chuckles in reply, but says nothing more for the moment.

It gives her time to contemplate how much she’s willing to do for these two already, how she might be in too deep but somehow she feels happy about it.

_“I wish you were here.”_ It’s a whisper of words, and she’s not sure what brought it on exactly, but she thinks they moved from her heart to his mouth, because she feels the same way entirely.

 

“Why, so you can fight me on this in person?”

_“So I can thank you for this… in person.”_ His tone shakes her bones. She feels a tremor in her thighs and realizes just how much she prefers his bed to her own these days. _“My flight leaves Wednesday. Maybe you should stay over tomorrow night. For… purposes.”_

“Maybe I should.”

 

-/-

 

The next night she does.

 

She comes over with a bag of clothes spanning until Monday morning. She also brought a ‘good luck’ gift for Killian, but he’ll unwrap that later.

 

When he opens the door, he reeks of exhaustion and worry. It’s not ideal, and certainly not the most sexy way she’s seen him, but it makes their dynamic seem more real than it has until now.

 

She thinks she’s only ever seen him at his best, and no this doesn’t exactly look like the worst he can get, but it’s more raw than he’s been with her, and she finds herself falling more and more for him because of it.

“What’s going on?” She whispers against his cheek when he wraps her in his arms for a brief but desperate hug. It’s when he grabs her bag from her and walks out of the entry way and back toward his room that she gets to see for first hand what’s troubling him.

 

Ellie’s standing by the couch, teetering on antsy feet. Her eyes are wet, her nose bright red and her hair around her face looks like it’s been shellacked on with furniture glue.

 

“Oh, Ellie.” Emma sighs, moving toward the kid as quickly as she can. “Oh you look miserable.”

 

“I am.” She whimpers, locking her arms around Emma’s neck and burying her face into Emma’s shoulder. A few short sobs slip out, breaking Emma’s heart in the process.

 

“You’re not excited to see me?”

 

“Yeah!” She argues bouncing ruggedly on her ankles.

 

“Oh, okay.” _Because honestly?_ Emma has no idea how to handle Ellie when she’s like this, and maybe she did sign up for something she’s not ready for, but it’s too late to back out now. And the way Ellie’s little fingers curl at Emma’s scalp, twining tight in her hair like if she doesn’t hold on she’ll be left makes her want to stay that much more.

 

“Eloise?” He sounds frustrated behind them, and it’s not his normal tone taken when it comes to his ‘love bug’ so Emma’s reluctant to release Ellie. She doesn’t want things getting worse.

 

“I’m not his friend Emma. Don’t be his friend right now.” Ellie warns in her loudest ‘whisper’ ever.

 

“We don’t have to be friends.” He replies before walking off with loud, angry steps toward the kitchen. 

 

“Why aren’t we his friend?” Emma actually whispers in response.

 

“‘Cause he’s leaving us. And he promised me he’d never do that. He’s not being good right now. He’s being very not good.” Ellie explains with pouty lips and tearful eyes as she pulls away to meet Emma’s eyes for a ‘serious’ conversation. “He’s going across the ocean.”

 

“But he’s coming back.” Emma reminds her as gently as she can.

 

“What if he doesn’t?” She squeaks and before Emma feels a familiar burning in her own eyes as she chokes back emotion.

 

“Ellie, hey, don’t…don’t think like that.”

 

“Sometimes when people go away they don’t come back.”

 

“He’s coming home.”

 

“No one ever does.” It’s a blade in her gut. She thinks back to the conversation she had with Killian last night, and although he touched on the sadness Ellie carries, she sort of brushed it off because she’s never seen it. But here it is, glaringly obvious, out in the open and ready to claim the both of them now.

 

She doesn’t know what to say to her, because she knows there’s too much truth in the statement to argue against it now. There’s not a doubt in her mind that Killian will come home, but she’s not in that logical part of her mind right now. She’s knee deep in the same broken abandoned crawlspace at the bottom of her heart that Ellie’s in.

 

She’s only ever saw Ellie as the girl she could have been, had she stayed with one goddamn family over the years. It’s heartbreaking to see the girl Emma truly is reflected in those same damp blue eyes.

 

“Ellie?” Killian calls from the kitchen, apparently not hearing the conversation because he doesn’t sound troubled anymore. “Love Bug, come eat so we can go to the store please.”

 

“NO!” Ellie shouts back in reply. “I’m not hungry Uncle Kilo!”

 

“Elo-” his words stop short, followed up by the same loud, angry steps he took to get to the kitchen in the first place.

 

“No, I am not talking to you anymo-” Ellie tries to shout but falls short when her voice cracks and a sob breaks.

 

“Stop it.” He exhales, swinging down to lift her into his arms. She doesn’t hold up the fight for a second, curling herself tight in his embrace. “I’m not against you, lovey, I’m with you. I’m yours and you are mine and I’ll be back before you realize it.”

 

“Don’t go!” she cries into his shoulder. “I love you so so much!”

 

“I love you more.” The second sigh is hoarse, something so devastating Emma feels tears crawling to her jaw before the drop. “I love you more than anything in this world, how could I not come running back the very second I can? How could I ever live without my love bug? Never.”

 

“Never?”

 

“Without you, Eloise? Never.” He promises. “But enough about me leaving, I’m so sad I don’t get to hang out with you and Emma all weekend. How much fun is that going to be?” He turns to Emma, ready to smile and encourage her to jump in when he sees the tears. His eyes widen in concern, but he keeps his voice even for Ellie. “What’s the first thing you want to do?”

 

“A fishtail!” Ellie lifts her head up to watch her uncle, the sadness falling away with each tear he delicately wipes from her face.

 

“Always a fishtail with you.” He laughs.

 

“Yeah, ‘cause Ms. Nova always makes a fishy face when I go to school with it.”

 

“Does she? Can I see what it looks like?” Ellie nods and proceeds to suck in her cheeks and pucker her lips like hurt never happened. Emma wishes she was this resilient because she’s still holding back emotions, still wiping away at her tears. “What a cute fish you make.”

 

“Thanks. Now you make one.” Ellie challenges and Killian obeys, and Emma thinks maybe she just lost her heart to him for real because he’s perfect.

 

Not just ‘adorable when making fishy faces’ perfect, but completely perfect. He’s an amazing father, a fantastic cook, he’s so clean, so organized and that’s just things any girl looks for. Emma looks a little deeper, at how after solving conflict, he redirects, never before, never when it matters, when someone needs to talk about it. She sees how he’s considerate and understanding to a fault, and how he cares with his whole heart, not just pieces of his mind when worry is triggered. He’s perfect…gorgeous, great and perfect.

 

“Cute!” Ellie compliments with a loud giggle. She wants to know how he does it, how he makes Ellie forget she was ever upset, how he does the same for her when her bones ache to run. He’s just… perfect.

 

-/-

 

He made her drive his truck to the store while he sits and backseat drives from the passenger seat.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with my car,” the argument continues as he’s setting Ellie in a freshly sanitized cart(which Emma takes note on because she would have never thought to do the same).

 

“It’s stolen.” He laughs without even looking at her.

 

She’s forgotten that night, curled up in his arms and he asked for just one tiny little secret about the life she’s so desperate to hide from him. Of all the things she could have said, she told him the one that hurts the least to talk about.

 

“Hey!” With a smack to his arm, he pays her a glance full of mirth and mischief.

 

“Love, you’re a wonderful driver, you just have a terrible car and I don’t particularly want Ellie in it.” And she wants to take offense, but he tugs at her wrist and pulls her to walk between his arms as he pushes the cart, and Ellie’s looking up at her as she plays with her braid happily.

 

And they feel so good together, the three of them, that she thinks maybe a stolen car isn’t worth more than this.

 

“I like your car, Emma. It’s blonde like us.”

 

-/-

 

Do you want anything in particular?” He asks after getting the staples. He’s leading them down the frozen food section and she slowly strolls through pushing Ellie’s cart and enjoying the moment.

 

“You know me so well.” She smirks as he opens a freezer door, dropping three pints of ice cream into the basket. “But I think I want something snacky… like I have this weird craving for French onion dip and raw broccoli.”

 

“You? Vegetables?”

 

“Don’t tease me, I really really want that right now.” He fixes her with a curious stare but she shrugs at him, throwing her hands down and blaming it on ‘PMS, probably.’

 

It’s enough to get him off her case as he walks them toward produce for the second time this trip.

 

It’s not enough to get her mind off of it though.

 

-/-

 

He asks her if she needs tampons before they reach check out, and she thinks he’s just flaunting the fact that he’s perfect now and completely willing to purchase them for her… but his eyes flicker with something different. He watches her like he’s testing her and she says yes in a panic followed by ‘should be starting any time.’

 

But she’s two weeks late. And somehow, no matter how many times she looks at Ellie’s face to soothe the panic like she always does, the panic still rises like bile in her throat.

 

-/-

 

She feels his arm wrap around her waist, opening her eyes to find the time glaring ’10:13p,’ on his bedside alarm clock. He said he was going to lay with Ellie for a bit, make sure she was sleeping soundly and she agreed wholeheartedly. She’d want to do the same thing.

 

“I must have dozed off a bit after my story.” He presses an apology in the form of a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m here now, sorry to have kept you waiting.”

 

“Don’t be.” She yawns, turning to meet him. “I fell asleep the minute I laid down. I’ve been so exhausted lately.”

 

“Damn villains of Boston getting the best of you Love?”

 

“Villains? Okay, calm down a bit. I haven’t actually left the office for any action all month.”

 

“What about that special, top secret case you’ve been working on?”

 

“What about that extra special, top secret present I brought you tonight? Can we work on that instead?” She counters as smugly as she can for a girl who just woke up from a nap. Showing works better than telling in her case, as she tugs down the sheets to reveal exactly what she brought him.

 

“Fuck” comes tumbling from his lips with a breath shallow enough to stroke her ego and lick at her with flames of desire. His fingers timidly trace the lace of her pink nighty, slowly, calculatedly following the sculpt of her breast. “You’re so perfect.”

 

She finds she has no control over her hands when he’s around. She has no clue when they reached for him, fingers combing through his hair and gripping him closer to her. She has no control over the way they kiss either, he dominates in a way too sexy to challenge.

 

He doesn’t tear his lips from hers as he climbs on top of her, he doesn’t pull away for a second. He so full of devotion, as if he’s just coming home, not about to leave, and it shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t be so perfect every time he touches her, every time he looks at her, but it is.

 

It’s flawless, so skillfully accurate to what she wants and needs. Especially times like these, when he knows better than to take his time because she’s too desperate already to wait and as ready as she could possibly get for him in seconds. He’s kissing her with fervor as he works her thong down her legs.

 

“So wet,” he whispers as he catches his breath before diving back in. She feels his lips curl against hers when she breaks the kiss in a moan only seconds later, when his fingers are sliding through the slickness she’s now harboring between her legs for him.

 

She doesn’t want to talk, because that requires thought and it’s times like these where she likes to shut her brain off and just feel him.

 

“Tell me what you need.”

 

But she doesn’t want to talk.

 

“Please, Love. I want to hear you. You know what it does to me. Tell me what you need.”

 

“You.” She breathes as she works her hips toward his hand, thrusting to get his fingers to slip inside of her.

 

“Yeah?”

 

She only nods as he thrust his fingers deeper inside of her. It’s embarrassing how easily they’re sliding in, how positively wet she is for him. But she can’t think about that when he’s nibbling at her collarbone and proving just how well he knows her.

 

They’ve been intimate for about a month now, but it feels like it’s a mixture of a lifetime and the very first time every time they come together.

 

He stalls her hips with his other hand as she continues to fuck herself on his fingers.

 

“S’that how you want to come, Swan?” She won’t deny the paralyzing need to climax, but he’s right. This isn’t how she wants to get there. She shakes her head, reaching for the waistband of his sweats. He grips her jaw as she does, bringing them both to meet in the middle as his other hand slips from her. She’s not distracted enough by the kiss to miss the feeling of loss, but just distracted enough to miss him swiping the pillow from beneath her head.

 

It isn’t until she falls back down on the mattress that she notices.

 

Now he’s kicking off his sweats and lifting her hips to slip the pillow beneath them.

 

“What are you doing?” She laughs breathlessly as he lines himself at her entrance.

 

(They’ve done away with condoms after the first failed attempt. She’s on birth control anyway.)

 

(Not that she’s sure that makes any difference now)

 

“Making you cum.” With that he slides in slow but so deep she’s keening before he’s bottomed out. “Shh.” He hushes before covering her mouth with his. When he finally reaches the hilt, she thinks she’s lost her ability to feel anything but him inside of her. All thoughts of anything else are gone from her. It’s just the feel of him and her need to thrust back up to meet him with mind-numbing abandon.

 

And he lets her, lets her lead for the first few minutes, as long as she keeps her mouth to his, keeps herself quiet. But it gets so good, as he cups her breast, pinching at the nipple. She tears her lips away to gasp.

He gasps too, saying something about how she barely fits in his hands anymore, about how perfect her body is, and it just keeps getting better every time she shares it with him.

 

(She pretends she doesn’t notice a change in size)

 

He gasps about how wet hearing him talk makes her, how he can feel her growing ‘so fucking damp’ and when he says it, says he ‘fucking loves it’ the way his hoarse voice sounds is enough to make her moan again. Killian leans back, resting on his knees and jerking her hips forward, thrusting that much deeper into her. She trembles fighting back her natural response to cry out.

 

“You’ve gotta be quiet, Swan.” He grins before tugging his shirt off like some romance novelist’s muse and tossing it to her. “Bite down if you can’t hold it in.”

 

She wants to laugh, but his next thrust steals her breath.

 

“Touch yourself for me, Love.”  She wonders what her trembling feels like to him, if he can feel her quake around him when he talks to her.

 

“Do it for me.” She sweetly suggests, combing her fingers down his chest.

 

“And what will you do for me?”

 

“Cum.” She assumes that’s more than enough, with how eagerly he moves his thumb to her lip, wetting it on the moistness there before using it to worship her clit. The sensation is enough to destroy her. Like some sort of possession is taking place, her spine arches as he continues thrusting and rubbing and breathing something so sinisterly heavy she feels like speaking in tongues.

 

It takes seconds, maybe, before she’s clenching, toes curling, teeth digging so deeply into her bottom lip she thinks she’s drawn blood. It’s a challenge being quiet, but for him she finds a way.

 

She thinks he may be even louder than she when he comes a minute later, grunting, groaning and weeping ‘Oh, Emma.’

 

She’s barely conscious for longer than a minute, but she feels him pull her to his chest as he lays beside her, feels these soft little circles being brushed into her skin, hears him tell her she’s too perfect for words.

 

-/-

 

When she wakes, it’s much more urgent than their usual kisses in the morning or tender touches before getting out of bed. It’s getting Ellie off to preschool despite how sad she is. It’s getting Killian to the airport and trying to kiss him goodbye without feeling sad on her own.

 

It’s getting herself to her doctor…

 

Because she’s not stupid, and all the signs point south.

 

She also knows taking a test at home is not the way to go. She’s getting a blood test and if it comes back positive, she’s getting answers.

 

He sends her away with a promise to call in a few days with the test results. She thinks it’s alright, as long as Killian’s still out of town when he calls, it will be just fine.

 

-/-

 

She has to do her absolute best to put it out of her mind for the next few days.

 

Wednesday is a busy day at work when she leaves the doctor. She has August staking out Killian’s office constantly to make sure Will isn’t up to no good. Killian told her that he couldn’t make the trip because he’s still on the first year of his visa. A very convincing lie.

 

It hurts her to know how trusting Killian is, even with liars like Will.

 

(Even with liars like her.)

 

(She’s not actually doing too well with keeping her mind off it.)

 

A call comes in at 2pm from Ellie’s preschool a voicemail that goes a little like ‘ _Miss Swan, this is Miss Nova at Ellie’s school. She’s not having a very good day and refused nap. Killian usually picks her up when she gets this way and she’s been asking for you. Give us a call when you get this._ ’

 

Does she really have a choice? So she finds herself blowing off work the whole day, picking up a cranky Ellie and high tailing it to Granny’s. Killian advised her that even four year-olds have days where they need their comfort food.

 

Sure, the grilled cheese and onion rings do them both wonders, but Emma thinks the hot cocoa to go is what soothes Ellie’s sadness. That and the trillion kisses Granny gives her before they leave.

 

She likes the idea of adopting family members along the way, loves that Ellie may not have living biological grandparents, but she has a grandmother who thinks the world of her. Growing up in the system, Emma always dreamt of being adopted by a family, and it not feeling like adoption at all.

 

That night Killian calls from London, face times with Ellie and tells her the most amazing bedtime story to date. Ellie doesn’t even whimper when it comes time to say goodnight.

 

He calls back a little while later, tries to coax Emma into a round of phone sex, but it’s the middle of the night there and he has a meeting in the morning. He tells her something like ‘ _I should have something of yours’_ and how he ‘ _sleeps better when she’s around.’_

She realizes how happy she is to be in his bed, surrounded by the scent of him. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but comfort does.

 

-/-

 

Thursday is a busy day. Ellie has a cake tasting at four and ballet at six that night, and really _really_ doesn’t want to go to school. She doesn’t throw a tantrum, so much as sends Emma on a guilt trip.

 

“I just wanna see your face all day, Emma.  I just wanna see your pretty face and know you’re here.”

 

And she isn’t going to say no to that. She doesn’t really say anything with these raw emotions choking her down.  She just drives past the school and straight to the office.

 

She has a near-death experience when Ellie asks why she has a picture of ‘Mr. Scar’ on her desk and she forgets that she can breathe and panic at the same time. August comes up with a lie fit for a storybook.

 

“Well, why do you call Mr. Scar that? Because he reminds you of the Lion King right?”

 

“Yeah, he’s the mean brother who pushes Mufasa off the mountain.” And then with a tiny gasp “No! Is he gonna push Uncle Kilo off the mountain?”

 

“Not now he won’t, because Emma and I are gonna capture him and send him back to the Serengeti where he belongs.” And he moves across the room to her, eyes full of magic and wonder like the stories he weaves “But it’s top secret Ellie, and you can’t say anything, or else Uncle Kilo might go after him himself, and you know what happened to Mufasa” He pounces at her as she’s sitting on the edge of her seat and she lets out the most adorable shriek.

 

“AHH!” followed by a round of giggles “August, you’re silly. Mr. Scar is not really mean, is he?” Emma has to fight the eye roll at her partner before answering Ellie as sincerely as she can for a lie.

 

“Of course not. He’s sitting on my desk because he needs a costume for your coronation and I have a friend who does costuming. Speaking of which, we have a cake tasting before ballet. We better jet, kid.”

 

“Emma? I had no clue you spoke Suburban soccer mom.” She doesn’t fight herself the second time, rolling her eyes at August as she shuffles Ellie to her feet and out the door.

 

“Shut up.” She hisses on the way out, once Ellie’s out of ear shot.

 

Killian’s text matches up with the awning sign reading: Neverland Bakery

 

The woman behind the counter is a little less spritely than the first to greet them, but very much true to theme.

 

“Hey Eloise! Are you stoked to be turning five?”

 

“Yeah, and to be queen.” Ellie beams brightly but doesn’t remove her hand from Emma’s. “This is my Emma. Emma, this is Tinkerbelle.”

 

“Seriously? Like, legally?” She never claimed to be a people person, but the look on ‘Tinkerbelle’s’ face is enough to make her rethink her approach. “Sorry, it’s just… I’m still not over my boyfriend running Jolly Roger and asking me to cake taste at a place called Neverland.”

 

“We’ve been doing business for a few years now. Liam found us one day and thought it was fate, we cater all the maiden voyages.” The blonde smiles wider than Ellie at the memory before properly introducing herself. “I’m Tinkerbelle for all marketing purposes, but the business license reads Sage Fernland.” And when she extends her thin hand, Emma takes it politely, hoping to be forgiven for her less than regal mistake.

 

“Emma Swan.”

 

“Nice to meet you Emma, please, call me Tink and the other two floating around are-”

 

“Wendy and Tiger Lily?” She means to say it under her breath, she swears she use to be better at holding her tongue.

 

“Uh, no.” Tink smiles graciously anyhow “Brit and Ash, their parents weren’t hippies.” The way she lingers with her eyes full of satisfaction cues Emma in on her own current expression. She must look as stupid as she feels. “Anyway, I’m gonna go start the first round, Killian’s email says five flavors, so you’ve got 12 to pick from Ellie.”

 

“Twelve?” Ellie shows more excitement than she has all week. “Oh man, this is gonna be so much fun.” She smiles to herself before racing over to a bistro table toward the west wall of the shop.

 

“Twelve? Crap.”

 

“It also says you like cocoa with cinnamon too, so I’ll bring you both out some to wash it down with.” Killian thought to put her in an email, and her stomach blooms with warmth before the first drop of cocoa even hits it.

 

And they do try twelve flavors, she can’t quite remember them all but she knows Ellie is going to bounce off walls tonight at ballet after taking a large bite of each one. The final contenders are peanut butter, vanilla caramel, cherry cordial (“cause it sounds like a queen thing,” Ellie explained), strawberry fields and a chai tea one that Ellie swears is Killian’s favorite, despite her inability to pronounce it properly. She’s eager to see these all become cake pops for little hands but she supposes she can wait until next month if Ellie can.

 

She’s never been the cake type, but she might have scarfed down every morsel on her plate. She blames Tink, and _nothing_ else.

 

-/-

 

Ellie’s ballet class is the first since the recital apparently, all the mothers are greeting each other like it’s been ages. Emma sits in the ‘parent’s’ room occasionally on her phone, texting Mary Margaret to save her sanity. Somehow, she sees this being more her thing anyhow and if the two were to change places, she doubts Mary Margaret would reply to a single text. She’d surely be too caught up in tonight’s debate of ‘Natural fiber wardrobes vs Synthetic/animal byproduct’

 

She thinks she’d rather swallow a chainsaw than her tongue with a few of these women, but she’s here for Ellie, so she keeps her mouth shut.

 

“Emma, you’re so quiet. And we’re all so interested in how things are going with you and Killian,” One mother asks as she rolls her wedding ring around her finger with her thumb. The light catching that thing is blinding enough to distract Emma from the expressions the women are watching her with.

 

“Good.” She’s short, not as friendly as she’s use to pretending to be. She just doesn’t have the energy to be fake.

 

“Just good?” The woman turns to another mom, all judgmental eyes and presuming looks. “I mean… he has been single for a while…maybe there’s a reason.”

 

“Yeah, he gives a shit about his kid. That’s the reason.”

 

“I hope you don’t talk like that in front of his kid.” Another mom admonishes.

 

“Actually-”

 

“Alright girls, that was a great class, a couple of you were a little bit rusty. Make sure you’re stretching before bed, remember?” Ella releases the girls and Ellie comes racing over to pounce into Emma’s lap.

 

“I missed ballet so much!” Her tiny arms are wrapped around Emma’s neck, as she close-talks, their foreheads pressed together. “I am very happy right now.”

 

“Then I’m very happy too. You ready to go home?”

 

“Yeah, but I’m hungry.”

 

She ends up making a stop at Mr. Chow’s on the way home, they eat it on the couch in pj’s and finish just in time for Killian to face time. Ellie spills the beans happily, because take-out on the couch is an _almost_ five-year-old’s dream come true evidently. When he calls her back, he doesn’t even sound half disappointed, just sleepy and sweet as always.

 

He thinks the meeting went well, and she’s positive he’s being modest. The man could charm pants off the president. Still, she hopes he gets everything he wants in England, he deserves it so much.

 

-/-

 

Friday rolls around, and she wakes with Ellie’s foot wedged against her hipbone. Chinese food leaves little kids with nightmares that close to bed time apparently, so she crawled in around 3 am with the saddest sobs Emma’s ever heard.

 

 

She doesn't find time to fret over the indentation of little toes as she’s springing out of bed and rushing to the bathroom. A little less apparent is the affect Chinese food has on her stomach as of late.

 

Suffice to say, the morning starts off like shit.

 

“Ellie, please go to school for me today. I won’t be in the office, I’ll be running errands and doing serious work.”

 

“I don’t want to, Emma pleaseee,” she whines bouncing on her heels with frustration.

 

“For two hours, just two.” Emma bargains.

 

“Noooo.” She cries, and pouts and tears are tumbling down her cheeks at such great speeds, Emma refuses to call it a tantrum.

 

But her doctor called this morning, and she has an appointment at 11. And to be honest, this bind she finds herself in only solidifies that she has no clue what she’s doing and probably never will. Two months ago, she was on an all crap diet with no concern about another living thing and now she’s carting around a little girl who ‘ _just wants to be with her_ ’ so desperately she’s whimpering at the idea of going to preschool.

 

She’s not stern, she couldn’t say ‘go to school’ and feel good about it, so of course, Ellie plays hooky for the second (and a half) day in a row.

 

And she asks Mary Margaret for a favor by picking her up on the way to the Doctor’s office. Class ended last week so she has a free day to devote to Emma, but the real favor is to show up ‘no questions asked’ because she isn’t about to tell her what this appointment is concerning.

 

She and Ellie stay in the waiting room, but whatever nightmare Ellie had still plagues her, because it’s a freaking death grip Emma has to battle, peeling Ellie away from her when the nurse calls her name.

 

“I’ll be right back. Stay with Mrs. Nolan, and then we’ll all go to the café.” It’s when that tiny lip trembles as she’s saying ‘okay’ that makes Emma feel anything but ‘okay.’ She feels awful.

 

And the awfulness keeps on coming.

 

“Your blood test results did come back positive.”

 

And all the perfection that was dating Killian Jones is gone, all the joy she feels when it’s her and Ellie is compromised and every will to fight the urge to run has abandoned her.

 

The last three days have proven one thing: Emma Swan is not mother material.

 

 

-/-

 

She tries her best to stay neutral of expression when she returns to the waiting room. Mary Margaret fixes her with a glare like she’s an idiot for even attempting to fool her. Ellie just rushes back into her arms.

 

“Are you okay? Are you sick, Emma?”

 

“No Ellie, is that what you thought?”

 

“In my dream you were sick and you had to go to the doctors but they were sad to me and Uncle Kilo and said maybe they can’t fix your owies. Maybe you wouldn’t come home with us.” Ellie’s voice cracks at the end and the tears Emma was trying to hold in trickle down, the strength she was trying to possess is but a pipe dream. “You are sick?”

 

“No, I’m not sick.” Emma repeats. “I’m just really tired. You know how you get crabby when you’re tired?”

 

“Yeah.” Ellie sighs so heavily for such a small frame. “It’s ‘cause I woke you up last night?”

 

“Nope. It’s because I’m just tired. Not anyone’s fault.” Emma lifts Ellie into her arms, despite the warning the doctor gave her about ‘taking it easy.’ She still loves Ellie just as much before the news broke.

 

Maybe more.

 

-/-

 

“You’re just not going to tell me? You pull me out of bed on my first Friday off in months and you’re just gonna pretend like nothing happened?” Mary Margaret finally cracks at the park after their trip to the café. Ellie is in sight, but out of earshot, something Emma had been trying to avoid since leaving the café for this exact reason.

 

“What do you want? You want a cookie? I bought you lunch.” Emma lashes out for no good reason other than confirmed hormones. “You’re my friend, you said if I needed anything, ever, to just ask.”

 

“True, and I would do anything for you.”

 

“Don’t ask. That’s what I need from you.”

 

And she thinks it’s settled, as Ellie comes running back over to hug Emma’s leg and kiss her hand before running back out to play with the other kids on the playground. She’s happier, still clingy and fearful of abandonment, but in a lighter way.

 

“Is it cancer?”

 

“No?” Emma turns to her then. “Seriously?”

 

“Will I ever get to know?”

 

“Everyone will know eventually.” She mumbles under her breath, but Mary Margaret’s hearing is top notch these days.

 

“You’re pregnant.” It’s not even a question. “Oh my god, Emma you’re… _upset_?”

 

“I’m not married like you are. It’s been two months, tops. Hell yeah I’m upset. I was on birth control, how is that even fair? I’ve tried really hard to be safe.” And the floodgates open without warning this time. She’s in the middle of a crowded park and has no choice but to bury her head in her hands, pressing her palms against her eyes to keep the tears from consuming her. Her chest wracks with sobs she can’t contain.

 

Because it’s not fair. Because at their most careful, fate had other plans.

 

“Oh, Emma.”

 

She’s had maybe one other friend in her life before Mary Margaret. Lily, who never once wrapped her arms around Emma, never once held her like she mattered. The first time Mary Margaret hugged her, she had to ask what the hell she was actually doing. Even now, years into their friendship, hugs feel foreign, but this feels like exactly what she needs; two arms holding her to keep her from falling apart.

 

“At least you know he’s a good father.” She adds an hour or two later after they’ve gone to the grocery store and Emma’s dropping her off at her residence. It’s in a whisper, and accompanied by another hug. “But your secret is safe with me.”

 

-/-

 

She just wants to curl up and watch Disney movies with Ellie, and try not to cry into each pint of ice cream she hasn’t had time to eat this week. Killian doesn’t actually call that night though. He sends a text early on in the evening saying he’s ‘held up’ and can’t get to them; to kiss Ellie and make sure she knows he’s coming home tomorrow.

 

She texts back an ‘okay’ and nothing else.

 

Because it’s not okay for so many reasons. She never had much nerve to tell him, but what was left is gone now. And Ellie’s just anxious for him to be home.

 

Also, they’re five hours ahead, what possibly could be tying him up on a Friday night in England? She doesn’t want to believe he’s _that_ guy, she knows he’s not, but irrationality is a dear friend to her, and her mind is full of impossibilities at the moment.

 

She ends up crying a little in the Cherry Garcia, and Ellie sniffles a bit through the Lion King, but neither comment.

 

It's not another nightmare that brings Ellie to the master bedroom, it's Emma after turning off the TV and doing the ‘Killian Jones’ security check. (Oven _, check_ , locks, _check,_ ) Ellie, check, right in her arms, half asleep but fully affectionate.

 

And sleep comes easier despite the news she just received and the lack on communication with her boyfriend. It comes softly with Ellie curled into her side, and nothing seems quite as bad.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Pregnancy Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick thank you for all the comments on this fic. Thanks so much, guys. Also, a huge thanks to my beta RavenclawPianist!

 

**Pregnancy Unexpected**

 

It's a quarter after 2 when he gets to his building. He took the earliest flight because he needed to tell her in person, because he couldn't breathe another moment without telling her the big news.

 

He creeps in quietly, leaving his suitcases at the door and locking it behind as slowly as he can. He makes his way to Ellie's room first, he's missed her immensely and one kiss on the cheek won't wake her up.

 

He fights the panic when the bed is empty.

 

He's been gone a few days and she did have a nightmare the night before. He can guess exactly where she is, and it only makes his heart grow larger when suspicions are confirmed. It's a sight he'll want sketched, or blown up and hung above the mantle.

 

It's Emma, gorgeous Emma who sleeps easily with her hair fanned across her(his) pillow, and it's Ellie, precious princess Ellie, who sleeps soundly with her stuffed reindeer held tight, but Emma's hand held tighter. They're facing each other and it does something to him, something incredible. He feels his eyes moisten, and the success in England yesterday can't compare to the elation he has watching the two women he loves most sleep beside each other like the family he craves to be.

 

Because he thinks he really loves her, thinks maybe he always has. How else describe the way she occupies his every thought, how she paints herself into his visions of the future?

 

Sliding his phone out, he turns it to silent before snapping a shot or two of the sight before him. Emma wrestles a bit in her sleep before he notices drowsy green eyes staring back at him.

 

"Hey" she exhales, releasing Ellie's hand gently before rising as soft as possible from the bed. "I thought we were picking you up tomorrow afternoon?" 

 

He's sure there's a question needing to be answered, but she's tiptoeing toward him now, and he forgets how to function without holding her. "I missed you both so bloody much." He confesses as he moves swiftly toward her and smothering her in the tightest embrace his arms could muster.

 

“I missed you too.” It’s muffled by his chest, but he thinks it’s only because the damn thing is expanding with pure bliss. “Come to bed with us.”

 

He has to pull away and see her face, see that she really is happy he’s home, and she still looks sleepy, but like a sleepy angel radiantly glowing in this dark bedroom.

 

“God you’re so fucking beautiful.” He even missed her incredulous glare that’s much too telling of a lack of love in her life.

 

But this look turns to tears and she presses away from him to head into the bathroom before he can understand why. He knows he has the tendency to press her. She’s always close to fleeing but when he gets so heart-heavy on her, she gives him that look. It’s like a warning, like she’s saying ‘slow down, you know I’ll run.’ And he never heeds her warnings.

 

Now he knows he should have.

 

Of course he follows her. He’s practically grazing her heels with the toes of his shoes. And she doesn’t try to hide it, just moves quickly to grab toilet paper, dabbing at her eyes while looking in the mirror.

 

“Emma?”

 

“Sorry, you’re just so much sometimes.” She laughs dryly after, still wiping away unwarranted tears. He reaches for her, but she can predict his movements through the mirror and steps just out of reach, turning on him quickly. “Killian…”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I… I uh…” There’s really no use in her trying to hide it anymore, these fresh tears are quicker, larger and just keep coming. It’s unfair really, how quickly the happy bubble can burst. “ugh. Forget it.”

 

“Not a bloody chance lass.”

 

“I don't wanna talk about it Killian.”

 

“You're sobbing. Sweetheart, I think this is something we should address.” She shakes her head, turning away from him again and watching the way tears fall past her chin like it’s a normal sight. “Emma, you can talk to me.”

 

“Killian, I can't do this.”

 

“This?” clarification would be a nice remedy to the way his heart seized in his chest.

 

But she stays firmly planted, frozen in space.

 

“Emma?”

 

“I haven’t been getting great sleep.” She answers, turning around and facing her shoulders toward him, but not actually looking at him. “I'm just too tired.” She drops her chin, staring at the slate tiles beneath their feet like she can muster up courage from between the grout. He wants to hold her so badly, but every time she pulls away from him, it burns a layer of confidence. He finds he’s a bit fragile himself now.

 

“Love, please talk to me?”

 

“I wouldn’t be able to speak even if I knew what to say.” The words come out broken, followed by this frightened gasp that aches in his bones. But she exhales slowly, letting her shoulders drop with every ounce of air being released and gathers herself together. “I don’t want to talk anyway.”

 

“No?”

 

“Nope.” Her eyes aren’t exactly dry, but the tears aren’t streaming anymore, and her voice isn’t as fragile as it was. He knows her mind’s made up and whatever is plaguing her is going to be her secret a little bit longer.

 

“So where does that leave us?”

 

“Shower?” She scrunches her nose, with this shoulder to ear motion that’s close to shrugging but a bit more insecure.

 

“I’m sorry?” It’s not that he didn’t hear her, he heard her. She’s just not making any sort of sense. “Shower?”

 

“Do you want to shower with me?” She’s probably laughing on the inside at the shocked expression he knows he must have on. “I know you’re going to take one anyway because you’re a germaphobe and just got off a plane. Can I come?”

 

“I’m not a germaphobe, Swan. I just like to be clean. We’ve discussed this.”

 

“Right… tell me again with hot water running down my back.”

 

It’s not the sexiest of showers, but any chance he gets to watch her bare before him is a chance he treasures. And her treasures just seem to be flourishing. He’s tempted to touch, but the way she asked to shower with him didn’t seem like a romantic invitation. It just feels like she needs to be cared for, and he’s more than willing. He may be exhausted from travel and the jet lag doesn’t particularly help, but she’s his now, and he wants more than anything to keep it that way.

 

Emma moves to reach for the body wash they picked up before he left, and he swipes the loofa from her hands.

 

“Let me.” She rolls her eyes, but he’s serious. “Swan, let me take care of you.”

 

There’s a bit of a stare down but she nods her approval and he takes his time lathering the loofa before spreading it over the expanse of her back. He starts to work his wrist into it, thoroughly massaging her tense muscles when she starts to teeter. He wraps his other arm around her waist, tugging her flush against him, pressing his lips to her jaw. The way she sighs in response, so full of contentment, has him thinking how badly he wants this to last.

 

“It could always be like this you know? You’re a tough lass, I’ll never doubt that, but I could always be the one you let see you sweat. I could be here for you.”

 

“Shhh, you’re ruining the magic of this.” She murmurs, letting her head fall back to rest on his shoulder.

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“I know you are, so am I. I don’t want to think about ‘sweating.’ I just want to be clean.” She turns into him, reaching for the hand that holds the sponge and guiding it across her collarbones, down the valley of her breasts. “Or…dirty.” She smiles, and maybe if it just met her eyes he would take her up on the innuendo. But it doesn’t. It’s empty and masking whatever is troubling her. It lodges this uneasiness within himself, just beneath the breastbone.

 

“I think we’re both too tired for that now. Especially with Eloise just outside the door. You’re not as good at keeping quiet as you think.”

 

She yawns, loudly, right on queue. “Ah, I guess you’re right.” She wraps her arms around his neck anyway, sliding her slick body against his as she buries her face in his neck. “I feel like I could fall asleep just like this.”

 

She falls asleep about ten minutes later, after she’s washed, conditioned and rinsed her tresses, after she’s done a bit of massaging herself, and his aching body thanks her. She falls asleep seconds after her head hits the pillow.

 

-/-

 

“Uncle Kilo!” Ellie’s voice is especially high pitched this morning, and he feels like he just fell asleep minutes ago. “You’re here! You're home! You came back to me!”

 

“Always, love bug,” he yawns before smothering her in his embrace. “First thing Monday morning we’re getting you a passport so I never have to leave you again.”

 

“Okay, but I was with Emma and we were okay. I picked cake flavors, I had Chinese food, and I had fun with Mrs. Nolan and August. But he’s silly, he tells silly stories.”

 

“That all sounds like great fun, Lovey, but let's be a bit quieter, Emma is still sleeping.”

 

“No… I'm really not.” The bed on the other side of Ellie rocks as Emma tosses herself about before settling on her side to face them. Seconds later her face freezes. “Too much movement, I gotta p…pee.” She's gone to the bathroom in a flash.

 

“Emma has been sick all week. We went to the doctor yesterday but she said she was just really tired.” Ellie has the most adorable way of spilling truths, as she doesn’t even seem half-focused on what she’s saying while she plays with the sleeve of Killian’s shirt.

 

“You went to the doctor? Why weren't you in school, Ellie?”

 

“I didn't want to Uncle Kilo.” She confesses shyly, “I just wanted my Emma. That's all. She wanted me too, ask her.”

 

“No, I bet she did. What kind of sick was she? Tummy? Or… Head…or?”

 

“She wasn't sick. Just tired.”

 

“Love, you just said she was sick?”

 

"Oh. Yeah, she was sick. The Chinese food made her sick. Tummy sick, like when I ate too many jelly beans at Roland’s birthday.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, but it's not always. Just one time I think, maybe two. She had owies too when we were at the park… She said it was a ‘head-ache.’”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, it made her cry. I wanted to cry too, but I wanted to be strong for my Emma. So I just gave her so many kisses.”

 

“Yeah? How many? Show me?” And she does, peppering little chicken pecks all over his jaw and cheeks until he lets out a chuckle. Her answering grin could stop wars, he swears it. “That must have made her feel much better.”

 

“Yeah, she said it did.” Ellie nods, so sure of herself. “We took good care of each other, and maybe we were a little sad but it's okay now.”

 

“Yeah, it's okay now, Love Bug, I’m home.” She smiles gently before laying her head on his chest.

 

They stay that way, his fingers running through her hair, her soft exhales rising and falling above his. He felt like worlds away from her those three days, but now his world is right here and maybe things are still peculiar, but everything is definitely ‘okay’ now.

 

"Ugh. This is not okay” Emma comes from the bathroom ten minutes later groaning and dabbing a towel at her mouth.

 

“Are you sick, love?”

 

“No.” She answers short and quick. “Just… Irregular motion sickness. I'll probably never get to go on one of your ships.”

 

“Swear to me that's a real occurrence.”

 

“Of course it is.”

 

“Swear.”

 

“I think it is…why are you badgering me?”

 

“You just…” But Ellie is blinking her wide blue eyes at him with her chin digging into his rib cage. She’s always got such a great gage on the emotions of others. “Oh my goodness, Ellie love, is it Saturday?”

 

“Pancake Saturday!” Ellie rolls her body off his and hits the ground running, “I'm gonna wash my hands and grab my apron!”

 

“Quickly then!” And she’s out of the room in a second.

 

“Hmm, sending Ellie out, who’s in trouble?” There’s this sort of teasing challenge on her lips, but her eyes haven’t shown anything remotely joyful since he left her three days ago.

 

“Did you just vomit?” He’s swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rising as she chooses to sit at the foot, back facing him.

 

“I told you, motion sickness.”

 

“Yeah, you told me a lie. I thought if I ignored it completely, it wouldn’t bother me so much that you feel it’s okay to lie to me.” He sits beside her, letting his hand fall to her thigh as he sends her an easy smile. “Still does though.”

 

“This is a really heavy conversation for a Saturday morning. Ellie wants pancakes and her Uncle Kilo. We can talk later.”

 

Everything in him is saying leave it alone.

 

More so ‘Try again later’ or ‘The number you are trying to reach is _temporarily_ out of service’

 

But he can’t come back to the same conversation empty handed, so inspiration strikes when she rises from the bed to meet Ellie in the kitchen.

 

“Why don’t you two get started. I’ve got to run to the market to get the syrup.”

 

“Don’t we have syrup?”

 

“Unfortunately, not. Didn’t think far enough ahead I suppose. I’ll just be a moment. You can manage pancakes for me right?”

 

“For you? I guess.” She grins like they’re flirting but her eyes are so distant. “What uh… what are you going to do for me?”

 

“I’ll pick you up something special”

 

-/-

 

When he makes it back to the apartment, he finds his kitchen being cleaned by two beautiful blondes still in their pajamas. He hadn’t realized he’d been gone that long, but sure enough, they’re loading the dishwasher full of plates and silverware she didn't bother to pre-wash.

 

“Swan, put those in the sink. I’ll wash them.”

 

“Is that another lie?” Her voice is oddly mild but she doesn’t even turn to him, just continues to pour the detergent into the designated compartment and close the dishwasher door.

 

Ellie tiptoes away from Emma and out of the kitchen, vanishing to her room like she’s taking cover from a storm about to hit. Emma tosses the bottle of detergent on the counter with a thud before turning on her heels and fixing Killian with a glare.

 

“We have pancake syrup. A fresh bottle that you bought before you left.”

 

“Oh? My mind’s a bit blocked, it appears. I didn’t mean to mislead you, love.” Ellie’s door clicks shut.

 

“What the hell, Killian? She hasn’t seen you in three days and I don’t actually know how to make stupid pancakes fluffy and round like you do. They were crap and she ate them because she’s sweet and thoughtful but she wanted yours.” The eerie calm is gone, just a raging, huffing storm. “I don’t know how to do any of this? I don’t prewash stupid dishes, and I don’t know how to make your griddle the right temperature. I think the damn thing is on the fritz, but that means crap to me. Where were you?”

 

“The store, love?”

 

“For an hour? Did you even buy pancake syrup?”

 

“No. We didn’t need pancake syrup.” He confesses, taking calculated steps toward her, her chest has stopped heaving, but she’s just as menacing as he’s ever seen. “I uh… I got something I think we actually need, Love.” He’s a bit alarmed by the way his hand shakes as he sets the brown bag on the counter top beside a bit of pancake batter they missed during cleanup.

 

“What is it?” She watches him watching her back in return for all of a second before an irritated groan slips past her throat and she’s ripping the bag off the counter and discovering its contents.

 

The brevity of each emotion whipping past her otherwise gorgeous face is almost overwhelming to watch. The bag drops but the contents remain in her hands, a death grip taking hold of the pink box with the words ‘First Response’ partially hidden by her fingers.

 

“I don’t need this.” She whispers after a second. “Are these nonrefundable? I don’t need this.” Her voice loud and strong and maybe he’s an idiot, but for the first time, he actually expected fear here. Apparently he’s the only one afraid.

 

“Love, I think we should take the test.”

 

“I. Don’t. Need. It.”

 

“Well maybe I need it!” It slips out too quickly to stop. He’s not angry just frustrated but it sounds like shouting and of course she takes it as much. She slams the box to the counter before rushing past him to his bedroom. “Emma!” but why would she stop just because he called her name?

 

He enters maybe seconds after she does, yet she’s already clear across the room tugging her bag onto the bed and moving around to gather her things.

 

“Swan, will you just stop?”

 

“No. I don’t need a goddamn pregnancy test Killian.” She growls, like she’s gripping her insides to keep from spilling out. God forbid she’s forthcoming with emotion, or at the very least explanation.

 

“You’re vomiting, Ellie says you’ve been sick all week, you’re very lovely Emma, I mean, absolutely gorgeous, but your body is flourishing in areas I wouldn’t dare complain about. And your mood, my god your mood is more unpredictable than the weather.”

 

“I don’t need to take the test, I’m done repeating myself.”

 

“You know there’s no concise guarantee outside of celibacy? Even your damned birth control can have its defects. It’s possible.”

 

“I know it’s possible!” She shouts back, tossing the shirts in her hands to the ground. “I know because it’s been confirmed. And I didn’t take a stupid piss test, I took a blood test at the doctor. Congratulations. I’m pregnant.”

 

True, he predicted it weeks ago, was almost positive the last few days, but confirmation is a world all its own. Does he perhaps hesitate for a second to react? Wouldn’t anyone? He can’t help the raw emotion rivaling within him, but though there are two contenders, the obvious winner is joy. It just took longer than a second to show.

 

But a second is too long for Emma Swan, and now she’s got one and a half feet out of the door.

 

“You know I didn’t exactly ask for it.” She breaks in this devastatingly agitated grimace. The tears that fall are large and fast but it’s the way her chest shudders that breaks him.

 

“Love of course not, and that’s okay.”

 

“Don’t use that word to describe anything about this.” She sobs. “I never signed up for this. I never signed up to be a wife and a mother Killian.”

 

He told her that story in the hopes it would help her open up to him. He told her to help his cause, and she’s repeating the words to burn him. They come out of her mouth with so much damn accusation. She’s pointing fingers like he bloody well planned it. Like he wanted nothing more than to impregnate her and build this model wife and mother everyone seems to think he needs.

 

“Right.” Is all he can muster in reply. Now he thinks his feet could probably find the door too. Only they can’t because there is a growth inside her that links them together for life. And if there weren’t, they’d still be sailing on the happy cloud that was their relationship a week ago.

 

Honestly, he truly can’t because he cares too much about her to go anywhere. So he takes his antsy feet and finds the chair in the corner of his room to take a seat on. And this feeling of defeat and helplessness washes over him the second he relaxes within the cushion. He came home last night with a million reasons to smile, and where this would only be another one…

 

It’s stolen from him, because it feels like ‘breakup’ weather in a room so thick with angst and regret.

 

“Killian… how do you want me to react?” He slipped his head into his hands a moment ago, didn’t realize she was walking toward him, and now she’s before him with this apologetic tone like she finally realizes maybe other people are capable of hurting too.

 

“I don’t really have a request. Your emotions are your own.”

 

“Do you even want a kid?”

 

“I have a kid. I believe you two have met?”

 

Her lip begins to tremble and this time he thinks it’s his fault. Maybe this whole thing is his fault after all.

 

“Come here.” He exhales, tugging her into his lap. She folds into him, curling herself up in his arms and actually letting him provide comfort. “I want in. I want to do this, if you’re doing this, you’re not doing it alone. I promise you. We can have this baby. We’re not teenagers or anything. We have the means to support a child, enough love to give this child. I don’t know much about infants, but after age two, I think I’ve got a pretty good handle?”

 

“I’m not even remotely worried about you.” She whispers. “It’s me.”

 

“Well, you’ve got me. And I know how you are with Ellie. I know you love her Emma. I have no doubts you’ll be wonderful.”

 

“But I do have doubts. And I think I need to take some time and work those out. Killian…I think I need to take some time.”

 

He hears a clock far off in the distance ticking away in the silence her statement leaves them with. He thinks he can count to seven in the blank space his mind escaped to. Seven seconds to gather that she needs the time without him there.

 

“Y-you’re breaking up with me?” he barely found the voice to ask. He thinks how happy a time this should be, how connected they should feel how… how maybe everything he felt thus far has been one-sided and the warning signs have been there. She wasn’t ready for a relationship. Why would she be ready for this?

 

She can’t find the voice to answer, so she nods slowly, softer tears, slowly cascading from her eyes now. “I told Ellie I would take her to the museum when we picked you up today. Please take her, they changed for the s-s-summer, and there’s this butterfly thing she’s stoked about. Please take her.” So he nods, not because his voice won’t work, but because it won’t say the things she’d appreciate hearing right now.

 

It will tell her how dumb this is, to just break up when they should be depending on each other. How he would rather stay together and try because their relationship hasn’t shown any flaw yet so why just throw it away. The feelings won’t be thrown away, that’s for damn sure.

 

So he nods and turns his view from her.

 

“I’m gonna pack up.” She whimpers. “And then I’ll tell her myself that I’ll be away for a little while. Okay? You don’t have to.”

 

He nods again.

 

She cups his cheek like it's not over or something, and a stray tear falls to meet her thumb pad as she does that thing against his scar like she has a clue where he got it.

 

He realizes he never knew internal conflict like this until he met her. He’s never been in this almost constant state of battle within himself. When she’s around, he finds himself split in two, wanting two separate things but wanting them both so badly he feels selfish if they don’t put up a fight.

 

Because he wants this moment to end, wants the bitterness of breaking up to just roll off his lap and away for good. But then he also wants to hold on as long as he can, because she still touches him like he matters and he doesn’t want to give that up for anything.

 

And then there’s the pregnancy. He wants this baby. He wants it so desperately that he can imagine a white room and a grand crib. But he can’t go through the hell that is co-parenting from separate homes, and split custody, two of every holiday.  And maybe time will tell, maybe she’ll do as she says, banish the doubt and move forward with him, but there’s a pull against that too, thinking that if she quits him once, quits them because Ellie is a factor, there’s nothing keeping her from doing it again.

 

“I’ll wait outside, Love.”

 

-/-

 

He doesn’t bother retrieving Ellie from her room. The way she snuck away earlier hints that she knew things would not be good for he and Emma. It’s Emma who calls her out as she drags her bag to the door.

 

And the door creaks open slowly, Ellie peeps around to view the surroundings and freezes at the sight of Emma’s red-rimmed eyes.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Come here, kid.” She casts a weary look to Killian before pattering across the floor to Emma and Emma crouches to her level, gripping Ellie at her waist. “I love you so much.”

 

“Oh…” The second look Ellie spares Killian is somber and telling. He didn’t think she knew what goodbye looks like too. Her blonde hair whips about like a ribbon in the wind when she turns back to Emma. “Oh, you are saying goodbye to me?” She’s already sniffling and it hurts like hell to think about how if he would have just kept her priority, never thought about dating or himself he could save her from another painful goodbye.

 

“No.” Emma answers quickly. “I’m not leaving you forever. I just have a lot to do at my house, stuff I usually do during the week so I can spend weekends here. Now I have to do this week’s during the weekend and next week’s during the week. Does that make sense?”

 

“Uhm…when will you come back to me? Three days?”

 

“A little longer than that.”

 

“How many days?” Ellie asks directly. “I can count high, Emma, I can count the days.”

 

“Let’s say… 7 to 10?” Can you count to ten?” Ellie nods and slowly counts each finger on her hands. “This many days until you come back to me?”

 

“Maybe sooner. Okay? Do you love me?”

 

“Of course! I love you always since I ever first even saw your face I thought that ‘wow, I love her’ and I do.”

 

“And I love you. And just like Uncle Kilo said, if we love each other, we will always come back, right?”

 

“Yeah, always.” Ellie sighs softly before wrapping her arms around Emma’s neck and tucking herself tightly in the embrace. “Always is my favorite word.”

 

He has Ellie wait inside as he says goodbye just outside the door.

 

“I’ll call you, so we can find an OBGYN if you’re really serious about doing this together.”

 

“I’m desperately serious, Emma. Every single step of the way.” She quickly bobs her head, moving to wrap her arms around herself. It’s the pained expression taking place on her face now that’s got his stomach wrenching, because she doesn’t want any of this yet he wants it all. “Emma, if you want or need for anything please call me. You still have my bank card? Use it as often as you’d like.”

 

“I’m gonna go before I just…” she squeezes her lips shut and looks away from him and his body is urging him to cross the line. Maybe they ‘broke up’ but he’s allowed to touch her right? She’s carrying his child and he thinks he may love her, is he allowed to touch her?

 

“Can I?” he spreads his arms to her, motioning with her fingers to walk back into his space. “I hate to see you this way.” Keeping her eyes elsewhere, her body finds its way against his. It’s bordering on reluctant as the seconds tick by before she wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him closer.

 

“You do make me happy.” Her jaw moves against his chest, tears soaking through the thin cotton tee. “I’m just really messed up right now and I need to get past it. I don’t want to break up forever. Just a break, a week or two.” And she only pulls away far enough to meet his eyes, but even that is too far for him.

 

“A break?”

 

“I just, I don’t want to remember that I’m someone’s girlfriend and feel obligated to act as one, ya know? Like I just need to focus on this.” Her nasally voice is a sure sign that she’s not even halfway done crying and it doesn’t feel good to send her off alone to be miserable.

 

(He’s been miserable and alone, and it’s the darkest he’s ever felt.)

 

“But if you still want to be with me after, if you’re willing to wait… I mean…”

 

“I’d wait for much, much longer than two weeks, Swan.” He presses a chaste kiss to her lips because anything longer would leave him pleading for her to just stay.

 

And as he watches her walk away toward the elevator, after reminding him she’ll call, he realizes he really fucking hates being away from her and this two week break is going to hurt something terrible.

 

-/-

 

It hurts the first night she’s alone. She finds herself constantly checking her phone during his normal 9:00 call time after laying Ellie down. She won’t admit to crying herself to sleep, but she can’t deny it either when she meets the mirror the next morning.

 

And she’s happy it’s only Sunday because looking August in the eyes today is out of the question. She barely wants to look at herself and he’s the only person who could possibly understand why she’s reacting so awfully to this pregnancy.

 

(And letting anyone else in seems pretty impossible.)

 

She curls back up in bed with a surviving pint of ice cream and watches rom coms the rest of the day.  

 

She thinks maybe it’s so hard because it’s the first day, she tells herself tomorrow should be easier.

 

-/-

It’s Thursday night when she’s not sure she can handle not reaching out to him. She knows she can, knows he’ll answer but she told herself she needed the isolation. She’s been ignoring calls from everyone all week. Mary Margaret probably has the FBI watching her, August hasn’t asked and she damn sure hasn’t told, but he watches her like he already knows.  And Lily? Lily doesn’t actually exist in her mind anymore. She’s just a bedroom full of stolen crap and the occasional other half of rent.

 

But now there’s a knock on the door, and she wonders which of the three it could be. She knows Killian well enough to know he’ll honor her request for space.

 

“Emma Swan?” another fresh-faced college student in a hat and polo pushing a carbon copy paper into her hands. “Sign here?”

 

He hands her two bags and a sincere ‘congratulations’ before walking off.

 

The first is full of food again, and it’s some of her favorite things Killian has made her thus far. It’s in what looks like brand new tupperware, perhaps a special set just for her. There’s no note in that bag though, and she wants to prolong whatever onslaught of emotion is about to hit, so she takes her time placing each one in the fridge.

 

She takes the second bag to her room, where she can just throw herself in bed if it gets too much. And as she takes a look inside, she finds she’d rather throw herself in his bed. She’d rather be with him 10 to 1.

 

It’s prenatal vitamins, and a few pages stapled together of local OBGYN’s and their reviews on various websites. He’s color-coated the highlighting job to express locations, years licensed, what honors and awards they’ve received, etc. He’s such a perfectionist and she’s the exact opposite. How on Earth is this kid gonna survive?

 

If she digs a bit deeper she comes across another stack of papers with a sticky note asking her to fill these out and get them to his office whenever she can. Perusing the pages, it appears to be pertaining to his health insurance, so all the doctor’s visits are billed through his. It’s a bit more sterile than the rest of the care package, but she knows he gets like that when he’s trying to not smother, but can’t find a way to not act. He’s a hands-on lover in all that he does.

 

There’s a couple pictures that Ellie drew and he’s placed one in a macaroni frame, the other in a cheerios covered one. Ellie’s signature is written on the bottom, and he even taught her to write ‘Emma’ in all caps and with not the most proportional spacing between each letter.

 

That’s when she loses it.

 

Missing him was hard enough, but it’s been just as long since she’s seen Ellie and she spent the last week alone with her, accepting that she loves her to whole new levels. It hurts to be away from her, and she feels like she’s sitting in prison all over again, watching women get cards from their kids and thinking how that will never be her, how she lost that chance.

 

And it’s still not her, not because Ellie isn’t hers, but because she’s not sitting in prison, she’s sitting at home only 16 minutes away from his apartment. She’s sitting here not being with this kid who loves her because she’s scared and pregnant… but this isn’t prison, and she can still be scared and pregnant, but she doesn’t have to be scared, pregnant and alone.

 

Not again.

 

She quickly finishes looking through the rest of the bag, it’s a bag of ginger hard candies which sound unappealing, but thoughtful, a bracelet that is supposed to help with the morning sickness she really doesn’t have often and a letter on Jolly Roger stationary. It’s what she’s been waiting for.

 

_Swan,_

_Ellie said Chinese food and you don’t mix so much these days so I made you something substantial to eat. Please eat well, Love, and take the vitamins. These ginger drops and bracelet might help if you go completely against my wishes and your gut and order takeout._

_I’ve been waiting for your call, but did a bit of research on my own. I think I’ve narrowed it down, I ordered the doctors by best to honourable mention. I find myself really… what’s that endearing term you used on me last week? Anal? Well I find myself really anal when it comes to picking one so I’ve left the decision to you, based on the five I won’t argue with._

_Ellie misses you so much, so she made you the most special pictures I’ve ever seen her create. She even suggested making two frames to ‘match’ the décor of your apartment. I questioned that a bit because she’s never actually seen your apartment. Nor have I. Who argues with queens these days? Speaking of which, you left before I could give you the gift I brought you back from England, or before seeing what I brought Ellie back. Although, Eloise made me promise to give you it while she’s around, so I didn’t include it in this._

_I miss you too, Emma. God I miss you so damn much, and it worries me you’ll never want to get back together, because I never offered you much to begin with. I swear I’ll give you the fucking world, and I know you’re afraid, and I won’t lie, I’m terrified myself, but I think we could lean on each other if you just give me a chance. I won’t claim to know it all, I still don’t agree with my choices in milk or quality programming for Ellie to watch, but I have never quit anything. I won’t quit you, I swear._

_Call me when you get a chance._

_Killian_

She can’t remember if there were tear stains on the paper before. But it’s soaked in them now and she has to talk herself down from calling him. She’s not in her right mind, too driven by the way his handwriting shakes toward the end as he’s pouring his heart into this because she’s too flighty to fucking listen when he’s standing in front of her.

 

She just wishes he was standing in front of her now.

 

-/-

 

His phone rings at 2am. He hasn’t slept in days so he answers on the first ring and all he can hear is her breathe, but it’s more than he’s heard from her in too damn long.

 

“Love?’

 

_“You promise you won’t quit on me? Because that’s all people do Killian and if you do it, I swear I won’t-”_

 

“I promise you. Where are you? Are you at home?”

 

_“Yeah.”_ She exhales this shaky rugged thing like Ellie does after she’s calming down from a tantrum. His heart shudders at the sound.

 

“I wish you were here.”

 

_“I know.”_

 

“How’ve you been feeling? Have you been ill?”

 

_“You’re so British now that you’re back. You say ‘ill’ instead of sick, and you put u’s in things that don’t have u’s in them. What’d you bring me?”_

“I asked you a question first, Emma.”

 

_“I’m fine. Still a little tired. Barely ever nauseous. I just have to wake up slow.”_ He’d let her take her time waking up, make sure she didn’t get out of bed too quickly if she’d just come back here. _“I called the first doctor uh… Whale? He’s actually younger than the rest, I’m surprised at you.”_

“I’m the youngest CEO in Boston. Since when are you an ageist?”

 

_“Since when do you brag over being CEO?”_

 

“The company has been making great strides, Love. It’s something to be proud about.”

 

_“Oh god, Killian did you get the contract? I mean, of course you did. When did you find out?”_

 

“Friday, that’s, uh, that’s why I changed to an earlier flight to get home to you two. I just… I was so excited I wanted to share the news with you.”

 

He thinks she hangs up with how silent she is.

 

And then this sobbing sound pours out through the speaker and he misses the silence. He misses the banter. He misses her.

 

_“I’m awful for you. Why…who are we kidding?”_

 

“Stop it. I want to be with you. You’re perfect.”

_“Killian I should have asked long before now.”_

 

“That news was exciting, finding out your pregnant was life changing. You gave me better news.” He attempts. “Now, did you call Dr. Whale, or do you want me to?”

 

_“Monday at 11:00,”_ she answers with a sniffle. _“I want to see Ellie that day, if… I was thinking and you can say no, of course, but I was thinking maybe I drive to your office that morning, we go together and after maybe pick Ellie up from school and do something?”_

 

“Uh, we have a dress fitting for her coronation gown at three, but I want to get you a gown too, so I think that’s wonderful. We could go for dinner after.”

 

_“That sushi place?”_

 

“You can’t eat sushi.” He reminds. He may have downloaded the ‘what to expect’ app on his phone last weekend. “You’re not supposed to. There’s this vegan place, actually…”

 

_“Oh stop.”_ She groans. _“Alright… I’m going to sleep.”_ He’s been dreading the moment this call ends.

 

“Goodnight, love.”

 

_“No… no, not goodnight. I want you to tell me a story, I want to hear your voice a little longer.”_

It’s a tiny spark, but he can feel it warm him when he closes his eyes, this tiny little spark that makes him think…it’s stupid, so stupid to think, but it makes him think maybe she loves him too. Calling just to hear his voice, that’s something people in love do, isn’t?

 

“Yeah? What story?”

 

_“How’d you get that scar on your cheek?”_ she whispers, breath fluttering through the speaker.

 

“Oh, that’s a good story, Love. Anna got involved with the most pretentious git early on in high school. Well, it went south and he started harassing her so I of course, doing my brotherly duty, threatened to pummel him if he so much as looked at her again. Anna didn’t mention the bloke had 12 brothers…”

 

-/-

 

He talks her into sleeping over Sunday night. Says something about how it’s better to leave her car at his place anyhow. She’s weak and agrees because she misses the way he holds her at night, like the world can’t reach her if she stays snug in his arms.

 

She never used to cuddle, now she needs it desperately.

 

He greets her at the door with a kiss like oxygen, and when he pulls away, she feels her lungs collapsing without the air. So she dives back in for another, and a few more after that. It’s safe to say the break is broken and they’re back together like they should be.

 

She should be with him, because with him she’s not alone. She’s happy.

 

And the next morning he wakes her up gently, holding her to keep her from moving too quickly, and reminding her that this might work better with him by her side. She might survive this pregnancy and come out smiling.

 

And Ellie loves eating breakfast with her again. She pours them both cereal, only spilling two marshmallows, and the milk flows gracefully from the carton to their bowls like a true practiced queen. She takes these large bites, slurping the milk from the spoon, but has learned to chew with her lips sealed, counting to ten in her head before swallowing. Her birthday is so close, and the crown Killian brought her from London, the one that replicates the queen’s, sets on the mantle to remind her exactly who she is these days.

 

Between bites she makes sure to smile at Emma, brightly. Emma realizes then that the less time she spends alone, the less fearful she feels. Ellie genuinely loves her, and if Ellie can love her, so can this kid, right?

 

“You two almost finished?”

 

Something about the way Killian kisses her cheek before walking into the kitchen with Ellie’s empty bowl makes her feel like this could be home, not the apartment but them. The three(four) of them could make it work. Of course there is so much more to work out and work through, but now she really believes this could work.

 

-/-

 

Whale is a bit of a prick on the exterior, but when he actually gets down to it, she feels confident with him as a doctor. His speech is easy but thorough. It’s not all medical jargon and it opens the lines of communication. Killian came with a binder full of notes on what he’s been reading in the week she’s been away from him.

 

The man had to have been a librarian in a past life. That or a very distinguished scholar. He goes on and on about carrying certain genes and how they’re both orphans so their families’ medical history is a mystery.

 

Whale says he can understand that. It’s not uncommon for one of the parents to have no idea what their parents could have been possessing, it’s a bit less likely for two, but not completely unusual. Killian seems calmer.

 

Then he mentions wanting an ultra sound, just in case anything seems weird because they don’t really know what their risks are as donors. Dr. Whale doesn’t argue, just expresses that there are a few more questions he’ll need to get through first.

 

Killian nods an understanding and proceeds to settle down.

 

The whole thing is just so much to take in. Killian is this pregnancy expert and she’s sitting here quietly playing with a latex glove to keep from freaking out.

 

And then the series of questions are all directed at Emma while she has her legs spread and a doctor prodding around her lady bits. They come out like rapid fire, ‘last menstrual cycle, go’ or ‘have you had chicken pox before’ he even hits her with a ‘what color was your urine when you last relieved yourself’

 

Which is fine, she can answer them all with ease, despite having him examining her at the same time.

 

It’s this last question, and it doesn’t really even sound like a question at all. He sounds pretty sure of himself, and she’s sure the moment he asks that everything she was starting to have faith in has just crumbled.

 

His head pops up with a tilt as his jaw drops to spill the words. “Emma, this isn’t your first pregnancy?”  


	9. Invitation Accepted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for all the comments and kudos(bookmarks) on this work. Another huge thanks to my Beta, RavenclawPianist for helping me on this project! Hope you like this chapter!

**Invitation Accepted**

 

 

“Emma, this isn’t your first pregnancy?” 

 

He almost chokes. His throat constricts and he fights his lungs to just inhale because parts of him just shut down in an instant. Things with Emma have always been unplanned, or unexpected but… Does he look at her? Does he look at her with accusation? Is he accusing her of anything? Is he mad? Does he have a right to be?

 

“My second,” she manages to croak out but not once since he found out about this pregnancy did she manage to mention that. “I uhm…”

 

“You carried to term?” The doctor continues, catching onto the tears swelling in her eyes and trying to barrel through whatever pain bringing this up has caused her.

 

And that’s when he vows to do the same. When her lower lip trembles and she blinks harshly at the ceiling tiles, tears trickling into her eardrum and threatening infection later on.

 

“Yeah.” She swallows thickly. He swallows too, swallows the urge to feel anything but supportive. He lost her already, maybe it was only a week, but it was the weakest he’s felt in a while and he’s not interested in reliving that.

 

“Were there any complications during the pregnancy?”

 

“No.”

 

“Okay. That’s all I need to know,” Dr. Whale is guiding Emma’s legs down from the stirrups and rolling his chair against the linoleum to change gloves so cheerfully, like a cloud hasn’t just been cast over their fragile relationship. “I think we’re done under here. Now, let’s prepare for this ultrasound and get a little peek at your little pea.”

 

“I…” Emma tugs herself up but doesn’t bother to spare a glance to Killian. “Actually, if it’s not required can you just tell me how pregnant I am so I can leave?”

 

The letter ‘I’ has never stung before he met her, but she uses it so frequently, it’s like there’s no one else that matters here but her.

 

“Miss Swan, I think your…” Whale’s eyes don’t necessarily pan to Killian, as much as pan the distance between he and Emma. “The father of your child wanted to see? And he makes a good point. I can do a prescreening of a number of things if you just relax for a few minutes longer.”

 

And of course Killian knows using himself as a reason to keep her here is only going to make the distance that much farther. So he spans the distance, he steps forward, and takes her hand in his. There’s a storm inside his head, but the feel of her soft skin against his calms his heart enough to save hers. Whatever happened after she delivered that child left her the type of wounded that could break them apart if they let it.

 

“You’ll still be able to screen at the next appointment, correct?” he directs toward Whale after clearing his throat.

 

“Yes.” Whale nods. “We… uhm… I’ll have Rachel schedule you for sometime next month. But there are other things we need to talk about.” From the corner of his eye he sees Emma deflate that much further. He looks to find her worrying the flesh of her lips as she scans the room for a way out.

 

“Do you need a minute?” he murmurs against her cheek. All she does is nod. “If you could go over them all with me? I’d like to give Emma a minute.”

 

It takes her no more than a minute to gather her clothes balled in a chair beside the door and skirt out of the room as quickly as possible. Once the door closes, Killian’s composure diminishes as he launches himself back to sit on the examination table.

 

“I’m guessing you weren’t aware of the previous pregnancy?” He sounds concerned, but he grins anyhow and it throws Killian off a bit. It appears Whale’s natural defense is an awkward smile during uncomfortable situations.

 

“We’ve done the whole thing a bit arse backward, not for lack of trying, it just…”

 

“Only sure thing is abstinence. How long have you two been seeing each other?”

 

“Less than three months.” Killian couldn’t resist tugging his hands through his hair. It’s not that he doesn’t know things about Emma. He knows her well enough, he thinks.

 

He knows her favorite color is red, but she likes the calmness in rooms of greens and whites. She likes the ocean but loves the stars and he knows she watches romantic comedies when she’s all alone, and has a crush on most actors named Ryan or Chris.

 

(If it is a boy, he’d consider the names for her.)

(He’d consider anything for her.)

 

He knows she doesn’t like Italian nearly as much as he does, prefers to eat take out at home than at a restaurant, and can’t stand to have her feet cold. He’s learned the way she moves is always clockwise, and it’s the most organized thing he’s ever seen her do, whether she’s walking clockwise around the living room to find where she left her phone, or brushing her teeth in a clockwise motion. She even eats her ice cream clockwise, dragging the spoon around the rim until there’s this weird mote on the edges, and she takes on the mountain she’s left the same way.

 

He knows enough about her to know he could love her forever.

 

He just doesn’t know who she was. 

 

“I honestly wouldn’t have known when you first walked in here.” Whale says gently, and Killian must have lost himself in his thoughts because now the man is walking to the other side of the room and Killian’s hands are colder, missing the feel of her hands in them for too long. “You two look like you’ve been together quite a while. You look like lovers.”

 

-/-

 

“You’re eight weeks.” He grins at her as she leaves the restroom after changing back into her shorts and t-shirt. It probably took her longer than ever to get dressed, with all the crying she managed to do in the middle of it.

 

(Did she mention she’s really over the tears?)

 

“Yeah?”

 

“It apparently starts from your last menstrual cycle, not your conception date. Weird right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You feel better, Emma?”

 

Her first thought is to just completely lose it. She’s just ready to snap because first, how dare he lure her into a false sense of comfort when there’s this big dark cloud hovering over everything they are; and second, she’s really tired of him asking her how she feels when she’s not nearly sincere enough to ever ask him. She’s losing in this relationship. If there’s a tally for better partner, she’s got zip beside her name and it’s a little irritating that he wants it to be some stupid  wash out instead of letting her go home a loser with a bit of dignity.

 

Because she’s going to be going home a loser. Not just in this game of better boyfriend/girlfriend nonsense she’s made up in her head, but in this life. She has always lost and she will continue to lose everything.

 

“I’m fine.” She lies. “Maybe a little nausea?” She attempts to remedy because maybe there are enough lies out there already.

 

“We can swing by your apartment, grab those ginger drops I knew you wouldn’t bring with you.” He raises an eyebrow like he’s jokingly scolding her but it isn’t funny. She feels completely on edge and vulnerable. She’s waiting for him to ask, waiting for _him_ to snap.

 

Perhaps to the point where she wishes he just would already.

 

She knows she would. She knows if the tables were turned and he was sitting on the table getting his junk examined and a bomb dropped like that, she’d be half way voice-less from all the shouting and accusing she’d be doing. And the only thing more upsetting than being that person, the person who yells first asks questions later, is realizing that not everyone else is.

 

“Love? Earth to Emma?”

 

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” He exhales quickly, like it’s been weighing on his chest too.

 

“Your secrets are your own.” He smiles his 1000 watt smile like he does so often for her. She doesn’t deserve it but its there and she thinks she owns rights to it now, could mass produce them for every lost girl out there in need of a little sunshine.

 

“Killian…” But words fail her and she collides into him, wrapping herself up in him where she’s safe and thoughts of being seventeen and pregnant can almost fade away.

 

Until a later date of course. She’s not stupid, it will come up again. He won't go the next however long they have not wanting to know about the child she had.

 

“Are you hungry for anything? We’ve got a couple hours before we need to pick up Ellie and I want you to eat before.”

 

"Granny’s?”

 

“Should have guessed as much.” He grins, guiding her to the parking lot. “You know, Dr. Whale said to steer clear of fried foods.”

 

-/-

 

That day is far behind them, and they’re actually a week and a half away from their next appointment when it comes up one night.

 

They’ve been up all night going over the checklist for Ellie’s party. He’s asked her to go to bed three times since 10pm but she wants to be like him, wants to learn to parent like him and sacrifice. She’s been selfish for the last eight or nine years of her life, and maybe it’s gonna take more than pulling one all-nighter to break, but she has to start somewhere.

 

“When was the last time you were home?” he asks as he’s scrolling through the RSVP’s. He’s been raking his hair through with his fingers, and it’s sticking out on the side the way she likes. Is it selfish she finds ‘frustrated’ Killian so attractive?

 

“You want me to go home?” She acts a bit coy, blame the hormones, but she’s practically thinking about jumping him on every other occasion. She just really likes the way he looks when he’s tired, focused and frustrated.

 

(She’s not complaining about the way he looks well-rested and laid back either)

 

“I want to know if you checked your mail and got the invite I sent you.” He expresses, still serious as ever. But he does this thing when he talks to the people he cares about a bit more stern than they’re use to. He touches them, sometimes a light brush of knuckles to her cheek, or a kiss to her forehead to let her know he’s serious, but still enamored. She loves that about him, loves that he’s resting his hand on her knee, caressing the bare skin there as he continues his reading.

 

“Oh, I can text Lily and ask if she checked the mail this week.”

 

“Lily?” Now she’s got his attention. She’s just not sure why.

 

“My roommate? I’ve mentioned her before.”

 

“We’ve been together for about three months you know, and I still have only met Mary Margaret, and that had absolutely nothing to do with you. You’ve met pretty much everyone in my life. Anyone left you’ll see at the party.”

 

“Okay? I don’t have that many people in my life, Killian.”

 

“Emma?” Now he wears this incredulous smirk, with his mouth gaped open like he can’t believe _her_. It’s not as attractive as his focused look. Actually it makes her want to wipe that stupid look of his face.

 

(Maybe she is tired?)

 

“What’s your point?”  


“I guess I don’t have one.” He turns away from her like the conversation is over, but this conversation has been a cloud over her head for weeks now. Everyone pretends they are okay, until they can’t pretend anymore and it all comes falling out. She’s never been that girl, if it sucks she says so then, and waiting for him to ask her about… ‘anything’ sucks.

 

“You said my secrets were my own, right? Why are you so upset now?”

 

“I’m not upset.” The bastard has the audacity to snort to himself, not granting her any sort of eye contact and she just feels her blood raging to life in her veins.

 

“Why don’t you grow up and tell me how you really feel instead of sitting here like some sort of…of-”

 

“Swan, just go to bed.” He dismisses like she’s the child she’s carrying. “You’re angry for no reason and I’m stressed over this. Please, if you’re tired, if you’re acting out over exhaustion, go to bed.”

 

“Why don’t I go to bed in my own bed? At home.” She rises from her chair beside him, stalking toward the bedroom to pretend to pack because there is actually no way she’d make it to her apartment at 3am. Her vision blurs at the thought.

 

It takes him a bit longer to follow. He’s usually right on her heels, but this time he does the Killian Jones check, she can hear the locks switching twice. The light in the kitchen turning off, Ellie’s door creaking open and shut. And she’s right back at square one, wanting to be just like him. He never forgets a duty, he’s so prioritized, it’s too impressive to not admire.

 

When he walks through the doors of the master, she sees the way his hair sticks up on the side as she likes, and realizes she’s been making a better lover than fighter these days.

 

It helps her cause when he goes straight to her, guiding her gently by her shoulders to sit on the bed as he lowers himself a second later to remove her sandals.

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just dismissed you then. I think we’re both a bit exhausted.”

 

“Did you mean it when you said my secrets were my own?”

 

“Yes.” He answers quickly, pure blue eyes staring directly into hers, and there’s not a lie for miles. “Emma, I saw the way you crumbled the second the words came from his mouth. I will never ask you to re-live that for a sheer need of information. Nothing I do can change the way your history works. Just as nothing you do can bring my family back.”

 

“Right.” Because sometimes he plays this role so well she forgets that he lost two people he loved only a year and a half ago. She doesn’t see him hurt nearly as much as she feels her own, but it’s there and it’s deep. She knows it’s deep. “You just… you make me think that maybe, maybe we’re not even. What did you mean when you mentioned only meeting Mary Margaret?”

 

“Maybe I should clarify what I mean by ‘your’ secrets?” He redirects with a roll of his neck that sort of erases all the comfort she just felt sitting in front of him. “Your past is your own. I won’t make you trudge through the pain of it, Emma. I just feel like with the way things are between us now, with you having our child growing within you, I deserve honesty moving forward. I don’t want to find out you’ve got some lover you’re hiding… or some husband and child if you will.”

 

“Child?” And once again she’s so caught up being Emma she forgets that Killian has a past and he’s actually shared it with her. “Oh, right, your ex.”

 

“Yeah…and not just a child, of course or a husband. If you’re hiding anything, you can trust that I’ll be understanding, that I won’t dream of letting you go for anything. Even murder.” He jokes.

 

Only… she had just caught her breath from thinking he wanted to know about baby, to realizing she has one chance to tell him about Will and she doesn’t have it in her to do so.

 

And she has to really think about It, really think if this can all play out without hurting this man and without her getting hurt as well. If they just get him when no one is around, if they get him when Killian’s not there, maybe they can get away with it.

 

Because there is a ‘they’ involved. No matter how much she cares about Killian, August comes into this picture too. The bounty over Scarlet is a huge one, and it’s not just hers. And would Killian really condone her letting someone else down just for him? Of course not. He’s too thoughtful, too understanding. It’s not a matter of not going through with this, no it’s just a matter of pulling it off.  Maybe she can have her cake, her 125 thousand-dollar cake and eat it too.

 

“It’s late, Love. We should be getting to bed. No doubt Ellie will be up early tomorrow whether we’re wide awake or not.”

 

He’s watching her with such kind, forgiving eyes and she doesn’t want to hurt him. She swears to god she never ever wants to hurt him. He’s been hurt enough and he really cares about her. She doesn’t want to hurt over losing that either.

 

So she has to pull this off.

 

“Of course.”

 

-/-

 

 

He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a cloud cast over them since that day in the doctor’s office. Of course a secret that heavy weighs on a relationship as fragile as theirs. He’s just trying to bear the weight for as long as it takes for her to want to talk about it.

 

And maybe it’s the optimist in him, the one who thought from their first date that they could find a way to make love out of a little flirting and a kiss that sparks. Maybe he won’t ever quit this hopeless(reckless) romantic behavior that’s gotten him hurt in the past, because maybe it’s what makes every kiss and every touch worth the effort.

 

Or maybe it’s her and the way she stands in his kitchen in these pajama shorts that occasionally reveal the curve of her butt and the way she wraps her long hair in a bun at the top of her head when she’s serious about pre-washing the dishes.

 

Maybe it’s the fact that she’s trying. The fact that the effort is not all his, the desire to make this great is found on both ends now.

 

“You’re 11 weeks today.” He whispers along her jaw. “Any nausea?” She shakes her head happily.

 

“I just feel really hungry, like I devoured breakfast this morning.”

 

“Compliment your chef.” He presses his hips against her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

 

“I think being the pregnant girlfriend playing dishwasher _and_ busboy is compliment enough.” She thrusts her hips back, bumping his body away from her with a chuckle.

 

“Okay, I’m all ready!” Ellie appears in the living room dressed in a tiara she’s had for a while and a tutu.

 

“You don’t look ready.” He replies, backing away from Emma to walk around the counter and meet his niece. “What’s this?”

 

“This is my last day to be Princess Ellie.”

 

“Eloise, we’re not wearing a tutu to run errands.” He explains. “You can keep the tiara, but you best go find something else to wear as bottoms, I can see your booty” And she giggles at the word booty as she always does, which makes it much easier for him. A giggling girl doesn’t fight nearly as hard to get her way.

 

“Okay, but I’m not as happy.” She warns before scurrying off into her room to change.

 

“How are you perfect with her?” Its her lips along his shoulder blade now. The tables turn when Emma’s arms wrap around his waist. “She never fights you on anything.”

 

“She fights me on the important things, and at that point, if it’s important enough to her to argue over, I usually give in. As long as I can without repercussion, I’ll give in.”

 

“What are ‘important things’ in Ellie’s book?”

 

“Well, at the latest, inviting Will Scarlet to her birthday party.” He shakes his head at the thought. He can remember clear as day Ellie sitting on her bed with arms crossed calling him the villain. She fought for an hour to get Killian to agree that maybe ‘Mr. Scar’ just needs friends and perhaps Killian wasn’t trying his hardest to be one.

 

“She really likes that guy?”

 

“I really don’t know.” He replies “She just said something about if Scar had more friends other than the hyena’s, Mufasa wouldn’t get pushed off the mountain. To which I asked ‘am I Mufasa?’ and she replied with this sad look on her face ‘only if you don’t be nice, Uncle Kilo. That’s just the way it is.”

 

Thinking back on it now, she usually cries when talking about the Lion King, but Ellie was very serious and dry this conversation. Might be something he needs to revisit later on.

 

“Kid’s say the darnedest things.” And she’s walking around to face him now, arms still wrapped tight around his body. “You’ll teach me how to parent like you, right? Teach me how to pick and choose my battles, how to understand the insane logic of a child.”

 

“No.” He answers “Emma, I still don’t know what I’m doing. If I’m getting it right, it’s because of her. They’ll tell you what they need, you just have to listen.”

 

“Uncle Kilo!” Ellie shouts from her room on queue. “Come here please! I need your help!”  He winks as he makes her way out of Emma’s embrace.

 

“See?”

 

-/-

 

The dress is actually not all that snug. Her fitting was weeks ago and she was sure eight weeks to eleven would mean needing a size or two larger, but Killian said he told the seamstress to account for that in her measurements.

 

He actually thinks of everything and it’s so damn annoying.

 

(And perfect)

 

It’s this gorgeous red thing, and she feels like a real life princess in it with it’s full ball gown sized skirt and lacing up the back. Killian asked for a zipper to be added, said the corset was beautiful for show, but it’s not ‘good for the baby’ to have her tied up that tightly. Even the ‘boning’ is a fabric façade so nothing is digging into her waist.

 

Her spleen and her baby thank his annoying way of thinking of everything.

 

And he looks amazing, decked out in a tan long coat and old fashioned vest like a prince he’s proven himself to be. And he won’t stop referring to her as ‘Milady’ but she won’t stop laughing when he does so, go figure.

 

And Ellie? Ellie looks like the most beautiful girl in the world. She’s in this gold and cream ball gown with little sparkling ballet flats. She has her golden hair done in these spiraling curls, parted so the top half is twisted in these intricate braids. And she has this twinkle in her eyes that leaves tears in Emma’s. She’s like the Christmas angel on the Macy’s trees Emma use to love to see when she was her age. Or Buttercup during the wedding scene, the colors might differ but she’s the most gorgeous little thing. She’s a queen. Truly, and it’s inspiring just to see.

 

It’s funny, because Ellie’s been so excited for this for months, but she’s more reserved and patient than Emma’s ever seen her as they walk through the venue making sure everything is exactly how she wanted.

 

“I’m very escited,” Ellie comments quietly to Emma as she grips her hand tightly, moving through the ballroom Killian rented for this thing. “I will be queen in very soon.”

 

“Long live the queen.” Emma replies, giving her hand a loving squeeze as they continue through the venue.

 

The cake pop display is bigger than Emma’s bug. It’s freaking insane how huge this thing is. That’s not the only display either. There’s one full of assorted candies in these beautiful glass jars of all shapes and sizes, with lids too heavy for Ellie to even lift with one hand. There are many child size tiaras for all the princesses attending, and sash with insignia for the princes.

 

“Princes can wear tiaras too if they want.” Ellie explains as she perfects the row of sashes spread across the table like a tiny version of her uncle. “And the girls don’t have to wear tiaras. It’s whatever my friends want.”

 

“What a very thoughtful queen.” A different accented voice compliments from across the room. The three turn to find Robin and Roland, the very cute, very affectionate little boy Emma has had the pleasure of playing with a few weekends at the park.

 

“Happy Birthday Ellie” Roland surges toward Ellie, arms wide open, dimples so deep as he reaches her. “You’re so pretty.”

 

“Thank you Roland,” Ellie sighs full of sincere content. “I am so happy, are you escited?”

 

“Yup.” He nods a bit overdramatically in reply. “My daddy says you are better than the queen. I went to her house, but she wasn’t there, and when I go to your house, you’re there. So, I think that means you are very better than her.”

 

“You went to England?” Ellie gasps, tugging away to find Killian resettling the sashes Ellie must have only thought she was perfecting. “How come Roland went and not me?”  


“I told you lovey, the passport. But yours is on it’s way, so next time you’ll be right next to me.”

 

“I don’t know, England might not be big enough for two queens.” Emma comments, attempting to soften the scowl Ellie is still giving her uncle. “Better stay here again, with me.”

 

“Okay.” Ellie agrees, finally releasing the death glare directed at Killian. “Come on Roland, let’s go look at the other stuff in here.” They skip away hand in hand toward the other dozen displays.

 

“Why Emma, you are a very beautiful princess. That dress has you looking ethereal.” Robin pays her a compliment or two as he approaches. Killian smiles this time, instead of the usual scowl and unintelligible yet probable complaint. 

 

“Isn’t she absolutely radiant?” He hints, although they agreed to not tell anyone just yet. He knows Mary Margaret knows, knows she had no choice and didn’t really even tell her so much as not deny it when she guessed. He still agrees to keep it hush until ‘they’re’ ready.

 

(Because he takes ownership for every action either of them make, not just his own, and if she wants something, he makes her truly believe he wants it to.)

 

(She knows what he wants is to send a mass email throughout the company and get paid a million ‘congrats’ a day)

 

“Oh yes. And Eloise looks like a perfect little angel in that gown.” Robin continues “You, Killian, you look pretty as well.”

 

“And you’re undeniably prim and proper yourself, mate.” Killian retorts. And they go on like that, doing their annoyingly cute brotherly thing, that makes her head ache about as much as her heart.

 

She slips out of earshot, instead tracking down Ellie and Roland where they sit on the grand staircase a few steps high and speak about things she can’t believe most children their age even think about.

 

“My daddy says you get to be queen because you don’t have a mommy or a daddy.”

 

“Yeah.” Ellie nods gently, averting her eyes to the top of the staircase.

 

“First, I wanted to be king, but I have a daddy.” He continues. “My daddy says that only if I didn’t have a daddy I could be king.”

 

“Yeah, Roland.” Ellie answers a bit dry for her age. “But you have a daddy, Uncle Robin is your daddy and he gets to rule.”

 

“But… why Uncle Kilo is not your daddy?”

 

“He’s my uncle.”

 

“But a daddy is better than an uncle and you don’t have a daddy. Why come he can’t get a motion?”

 

“Purr-Motion” Ellie corrects, incorrectly. “It’s called a purr-motion ‘cause you grow like a kitty to a cat. And he doesn’t want to be a daddy. He wants to be my uncle. And that’s okay. We’re happy. Me and him and Emma are happy.” But she sounds anything but as she halfway shouts at her best friend.

 

And it hurts, because of course Killian is a father to her, but they just don’t use the word.

 

But it sort of sets her world on fire to be included in Ellie’s family sequence.

 

“Does Emma want to be your mommy? She’s really pretty.”

 

“Yeah, she’s beautiful but she is just my Emma. She doesn’t want to be a mommy, just my favorite. That’s okay Roland. It’s okay I don’t have a mommy or daddy. That’s why it’s my five years birthday and I’m Queen.”

 

“Ellie?” Emma calls, trying to drag her away from a conversation that looks like it’s crushing her birthday spirits.

 

“Yes?” Ellie answers, standing up and slowly wafting down the stairs like she’s practiced over and over on the steps of the jungle gym at the park.

 

“Bring Roland and come show me your favorite thing here.”

 

“She just told me!” Roland comes racing down seconds later stage-whispering “You’re her favorite thing, Emma.”

 

-/-

 

The party is in full swing, and Emma feels like Jackie O with every person coming up to her whether Killian is around or not. She’s had so many compliments and kind comments about how Killian is worlds happier with her in his life.

 

Her favorite meeting would have to be Belle though. They’ve passed each other in the hallway and she was on the emergency contact list those three days Killian was out of town, but this is the first full conversation they’ve shared. And she’s gorgeous inside and out, she’s practically donating a library to this orphanage Ellie picked her presents to go to. It’s over 400 books and they range through all age groups, from books to read your baby to chapter length books that were a big hit in the YA rating the last six years. Her publishing does this twice a year anyhow, but she’s happier to make the donation in Ellie’s name.

 

And of course she comes dressed as her namesake, this huge golden ball gown with bows and ruffles floats around her as she walks. The more she observes the bookish brunette interacting, the more she understands why Killian and Ellie hold her on such a high accord. She’s a real life Disney-princess, just as thoughtful and precious as she could be.

 

And then her own friends arrive. Mary Margaret drags David with her to the party. Mary Margaret’s husband David spends most of his weekends volunteering at adoption days down at the nearest pet store. He’s a veterinarian, and a stand-up guy. He’s always been more than just her ‘best-friend’s husband’ he’s also been a true friend to her. A busy friend, but true as ever.

 

“Emma, you’re gorgeous.” Mary Margaret coos, engulfing her in a hug tighter than the corsets in this place. “How have you been feeling?” she whispers softly.

 

“Good. Hungry, I ate like twelve cake pops and have tripped every cater waiter that’s passed me with food, but good.”

 

“Good.” Mary Margaret smiles before launching into yet another hug. She’s always a double hugger, and it’s sweet, but still too foreign for Emma to fully enjoy.

 

“I believe congrats are in order.” David grins, bringing Emma in for a hug of his own. “Even if it wasn’t planned…” he whispers “it’s still something wonderful to behold.”

 

And she’s starting to feel that way, with the way things are going these last few weeks. Maybe it’s not what she ever thought she’d want, but it’s happening. She can either get happy or get over it, but there’s no stopping it either way.

 

“Ah, you must be Mr. Nolan.” Killian’s hand settles on the small of her back, extending his other to David.

 

“David is fine, and you’re Killian if I remember correctly?”

 

“You remember correctly.” And the handshake even looks firm as David sizes Killian up the slightest before nodding some sort of approval. “It’s great to meet more of Emma’s friends. She has kept a rather close lock on her life.” Something in his tone sounds bitter, despite the genuine smile he’s sparing for her friends, and the gentle hand rubbing away the ache in her spine.

 

Like a bitter dark cloud, looming over their love life.

 

“You’ve done such a great job here, and I don’t just mean the party.”

 

“Right, David Nolan, you played hockey with Liam.” Killian tosses his head back for a second, like he’s just now remembering. Somehow Emma doesn’t think he’s ever really forgotten every single person in this city that took the time to come to the funeral service, namely the Nolan’s.

 

“He would be so happy to know how loved his daughter is.”

 

“Thank you, thank you very much for that.” His jaw clenches and he swallows like the statement leaves his mouth dry. She wonders what’s worse, wondering if he’s living up to his brother’s expectations, or having strangers tell him he is.

 

“Uncle Kilo!” Ellie scampers across the floor to her uncle, stopping dead in her tracks when she spots Mary Margaret and David. “Oh, uhm ‘scuse me.” She curtseys.

 

“Ellie, this is Mr. Nolan, Mrs. Nolan’s husband.”

 

“Oh, nice to meet you.” Ellie responds with a smile. “Hi Mrs. Nolan, I haven’t seen you since our café and park day.”

 

“No, you sure haven’t. Just another month or so and you’ll be seeing me everyday though, so count your blessings.” Mary Margaret chuckles.

 

“I can’t wait” Ellie exhales gently before turning her attention back to her uncle. “Uncle Kilo, uhm how many cake pops can me and Roland have?”

 

“How many have you had?”

 

“Uhm… not all the flavors.” Ellie answers shyly.

 

“How many?”

 

“Uhm… can we have two more both?”

 

“If you’ll excuse us.” Killian spreads his parting smile to Emma’s friends before kissing her cheek. He turns and guides Ellie back out into the mix.

 

“He’s a great father evidently?” David comments in Killian’s absence. “It’s good you won’t have to worry about that.”

 

“Nope. Just me.” She grins before leading them into the room to explore all that is Ellie’s coronation.

 

And it’s getting better by the minute, she’s mingling with Ruby one second, laughing at a joke Smee tells. Tinkerbelle is even dressed up as she watches all the kids gorge themselves on her works of art. It’s wonderful, really. It’s probably everything Ellie could want, this eternally happy atmosphere, everyone there celebrating her.

 

Then August walks in, not actually dressed up, so he sticks out like a sore fucking thumb, worse off, he was never invited.

 

And it’s not that she doesn’t want August there, she just doesn’t want him there for the reasons she’s almost positive he’s there for.

 

“Hey?”

 

“Emma, you look great. Ellie must love this.” He comments, glancing around with his deceptive baby blues and his stupid wise guy act. Everything with August is a sitcom or horror flick, and she blames it on his past time of creative writing. It’s never as serious as he makes it, but he’s such a sucker for a climax. Of course he picks Ellie’s party to collect.

 

“Ellie had Killian invite Knavelson, huh?”

 

“Did you put a five-year-old up to your dirty work?” she growls, pressing her index finger into his shoulder with more frustration than he’s worth right now.

 

“ _Your_ dirty work, Emma. You’ve done squat with this case in over a month. You’re lucky I care about you, or I’d be cashing in on this all by myself.”

 

“Listen to me clearly, don’t you ever fucking use her again.” Emma threatens, completely primal, so animalistic she’s not sure where it comes from, other than her soul-sucking love for Ellie, of course.

 

“Well, unless your boyfriend has more than one crook in the company, I shouldn’t have to.” It’s the way he uses ‘boyfriend’ that confuses her. Is he trying to remind her that she’s made this one personal, or threaten that the label won’t stick for much longer? Because they’re supposed to be friends and she’s trusted him too much for him to just…

 

“You’re making this much more important than your morals, and I’m actually really surprised.” She counters, playing up on guilt if nothing else.

 

“250 K is more important than my morals. It’s 125,000 for each of us, Emma. It’s the big leagues. It’s a year off for travel… or settling down in your case. It’s paying off some of my father’s medical bills.”

 

“I get it. I get it’s a lot of money, but this is Ellie’s fifth birthday. She invited me to this before she knew who I was even. Do you get that? This is what she’s been waiting months for.”

 

“I’m gonna lure Knavelson outside, no one will know.” He says in hush tones like a quiet voice can soothe the fear drowning her from the inside out.

 

“People will know. You stick out like an idiot who wears street clothes to a costume party.”

 

“Oh well, it will be quick if you kindly get out of my way. Just be happy I’m doing the bust.” He moves to step past her but she moves right back into his way.

 

“August, I’m serious. You can’t do this here.”

 

“Emma, I’m not waiting another week. Killian’s company just landed the royal navy, you think Knavelson isn’t going to find a way to take that money and run? I’m just trying to protect your future family.” Which is false, she knows, but if he’s going to pretend like he cares about them, maybe she can give him a reason to care that much more.

 

“That’s just it, August.” She breaks into something scared and whiny. “I haven’t done any work because I literally am having a family here…I’m pregnant, and it’s not just Killian dumping me for being a liar, it’s me losing Killian, and Ellie, and winding up pregnant, and scared and alone. You know I barely survived the first time.”

 

“Congratulations.” He whispers, watching her with wonder like they aren’t having it out right now. “Emma, I’m really happy that you have this family you’re building, but I already called to collect. In less than thirty minutes, there will be a man here ready to pay us for our bounty. I’m sorry, Emma. It’s too late.”

 

“August?” She huffs, angry that her eyes are watering for the first time today over something other than joy for Ellie. She’s angry that what she wanted more than anything a few months ago is what’s destroying her chance at having what she desperately wants now.

 

“You better come clean while you can.” Sure, he looks remorseful, but what good does that do her?

 

-/-

 

“Liam would be so proud, you’ve given his little girl this party, while also celebrating the contract you just landed, and you found yourself a gorgeous girl to help you with the clean up.” The rubbing of elbows has always been a turnoff about the corporate world. The men he meets are just so…toxic with their ideals. Emma’s not just some gorgeous girl, she’s everything that Ellie doesn’t already make up in his life

 

(And he doesn’t want to hear how proud Liam would be from anyone who isn’t Liam.)

 

“Thank you, she’s a marvel isn’t she.” And she’s storming toward him with a hair-raising look in her eyes. He turns to excuse himself from the ‘rousing’ conversation he’s been taking part in with his attorney, Walsh and a few other business contacts in the city.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asks before she even reaches him.

 

“I need to talk to you, like…like yesterday.”

 

“Here?”

 

“Please.” She exhales shakily, her eyes fluttering like she’s growing weaker every second.

 

“Is it the baby?”

 

“No, Killian, please I really need to talk to you.” Emma persists, and he doesn’t want to deny her anything, but he also needs to make sure Ellie is settled. So he scopes the floor before finding her dancing with an older girl she’s always admired, Grace, the daughter of Jefferson from design. The next set of eyes he meets are Robin’s, a few feet away from Ellie, talking to Belle over something. It takes a moment, but he nods toward Ellie and makes a motion, dragging his fingers from his eyes to the floor. Robin nods an understanding.

 

“Okay, let’s go to the dressing room.”

 

She paces the first minute or two they’re in there. It’s nerve-wrecking at best.

 

“Love?”

 

“Killian, I’m… I really don’t know how to say any of this.”

 

“Say it anyway, right?” he hopes he’s coming off half as sincere as he means to, but his heart is racing and if she wasn’t going to tell him about a baby as soon as possible, what could she possibly be telling him now?

 

“The top secret job at work, it uhm, it was…” She’s clear past fidgeting, now she’s digging her nails into the flesh of her opposite elbow, the other hand dropped past her waist, repeatedly balling into a fist and releasing into a stretched hand.

 

“I’m listening love, I’m all ears.” He attempts again and it seems proactive. She nods, takes a deep breath and begins again.

 

“A guy named William Cyrus Knavelson had been taking apart companies all over the UK. He has been going in and just, just messing things up, stealing money and… and he uhm… he uhm goes by… August tracked him down under a different name.” Her shoulders are shaking, her lips quivering, her body is just trembling under the weight of this secret, and he thinks the sound of her bones rattling is deafening, because he’s only heard a bit of what she’s saying.  “Scarlet.”

 

“What about him?” He asks, trying to reach across the barrier she’s set for them, but all at once the words she said form together perfectly and he hears her loud and clear. “Wait…what?”

 

“Will Scarlet is like some huge crook in Europe, and there’s a huge bounty over his head. We’ve been working on this case forever.”

 

“Wait. What.” He repeats with less shock and more demand.

 

“Killian, listen I… I didn’t know how to bring it up and I didn’t want you to get-”

 

“In the way? How much was the pay off Emma?”

 

“Get hurt.” She finishes.

 

“How much?”

 

“It doesn’t matter Killian, I… I’m telling you because we got him. August is closing today.”

 

“TODAY?”

 

“I’m sorry, I asked him to not but… he already made the calls. Killian, listen I just wanted to protect you from this”

 

“Don’t.” He grunts. “You bloody well lied to me for months, none of this is even real is it? No wonder, no goddamn wonder you were devastated about the pregnancy! Why would you want to get knocked up by the guy you’re just getting information out of?”

 

“What?” She had the pure audacity to act offended. She just hauled his heart across the floor, carpet burns and all, and she’s offended. Typical Emma.

 

“Don’t you dare, ‘what’ me! I let you close to Ellie, I… I can’t believe you tricked me this whole time. Only, I can because here it is, three months later and I’m just finding out about your roommate, and your day job.”

 

“You knew my day job and I mentioned my roommate Killian, stop it! None of this between us is fake.”

 

“Horse shit.” He spits. “I know nothing about you!”

 

“Of course you do!” She cries, literally cries, like she’s been victimized during the whole thing, like it was her falling in love and him pulling the damn carpet from beneath her feet. He burns everywhere, like he’s in a room on fire, and every singe is just a reminder that love is not for everyone.

 

Certainly not for the weak, and that’s how she makes him when she cries. Weak. Because the look in her eyes tears him apart worse than the lies.

 

“Emma, I need more.” He reroutes, as calmly as he can. “I need more than this. If you’re serious, if this was real to you, you’re gonna have to give me something.”

 

“Something?”

 

“I need something, dammit. I need to know something?”

 

“What do you want to know? The secrets that are my own? You want those, I know you fucking do. All that bull about them being mine was a charming cover up. You wanted them the whole time.”

 

“I want something!” He shouts until his lungs give out and he cracks through the last syllable.

 

“Well I can’t give that to you!” She screams back, dropping her hands to her knees, almost doubled over as she breaks out in this sob that screams louder, screams that this isn’t going to work out.

 

But she covers her mouth just as quickly as the sound slipped out. She straightens herself back up and gathers her composure because apparently he can’t even have that. He can’t even see her broken. That would be too much like a real relationship, being raw in front of each other is just too real.

 

“This is about Ellie. Today is about her, you should just go focus on her. I’ll go.”

 

“Do you think that’s what she’d want? You to just leave?”

 

She drops her head and struggles against tears, holding her breathe with short rotating puffs of stale breath seeping out.

 

“Was any of it real? If not with me, then her? Do you at least care about her?”

 

“Of course I do. I care about you both.” She whimpers, immediately sucking back in the nasal whine as much as she can before another comes out.

 

“How much was the pay off Emma? I could have written you a bloody check- I could have written August a bloody check.”

 

“Killian, please don’t ask me that again.”

 

“What am I allowed to know about you? Your name? Is that all?”

 

“I get that you’re angry. I get that it’s over. But please…”

 

He never said it was over. She made that decision herself. He’s just not so sure he should write her letters and try to change her mind this time. And the worst part is, he was about ready to build their lives around her and this baby. He was about ready to bend to accommodate. Now he’s just about ready to surrender.

 

“Please just stop making it seem like I didn’t care about you. I do. I care so much Killian, and I don’t…I never wanted this to hurt you.”

 

“Stay for her to get crowned.” Killian exhales. “She’d be pretty hurt too if you didn’t. She really loves you.”

 

“I really love her too.” Emma continues to try and beat into his head that she wasn’t pretending, but the cats out of the bag and she’s ready to leave now that she got what she came for. “Killian, we’re still having a baby. It’s still…”

 

“I’m not going to abandon the child, Emma, or you. I just don’t trust you anymore.” Her gorgeous eyes widen in disbelief, “How can I? You’ve given me nothing but secrets and lies.”

 

She looks like she’s going to break again, and although he’d love to know for a fraction of a second that it hurts her to hurt them this way, he really can’t handle watching her hurt. It’s unfair, but it’s how his heart has always worked.

 

“Don’t… don’t cry again, Emma, come on. Let’s just go back out and enjoy the rest of this party. We’ll figure things out afterward? For Ellie?” She turns her head away from him, lips sealed tightly as she shakes a bit from her ribcage out. “Swan?”

 

“You want to pretend like you don’t hate me for the next couple of hours? Is that what the hell I’m hearing?”

 

“I don’t hate you.”

 

“I can’t stand next to you and know…”

 

“You think I want to walk out there like we’re fine? I’m doing it for my niece. You asked me how to parent, this is the only way I know how. To shove down whatever pain I’m feeling and put on a brave face for a little girl.” He argues with the reminder of how important this day is for the both of them, what this birthday party has meant to him all along.

 

Because it had only been a few months since the accident last year, and they didn’t have a cake, even. Ellie fell asleep in his lap after a cupcake and a good cry, and he tried his hardest not to hate everything about their situation. He promised he would do better next year.

 

And this is better. It doesn’t mean he put more thought into it, it means them, the two of them survived a year and came out better. That’s why there are 200 people on the guest list. That’s why he pulled out all the stops. That’s why he’s fighting tooth and nail to keep one of the few people whose presence really makes a difference to Ellie to just stay until the end.

 

This isn’t about Ellie becoming queen. This is about everyone understanding that they made it, and she’s capable of being happy and believing in fairytales even though she’s been through hell.

 

He doesn’t want to hear how proud Liam would be. He wants to just feel pride on his own from seeing her smiling.

 

“And after?”

 

“We’ll talk, really talk, and find out what we both want and whether they’re achievable simultaneously.”

 

He’s not sure if it’s the optimist in him now or the masochist hoping she still wants him.

 

“Okay, let’s go.” She agrees moving toward him. He can’t stop his fingers from reaching out for her, his thumb brushing away any lasting tears, his lips quivering to kiss all of this away, rewind and go back to twenty minutes ago when everything felt like it was falling closer into place.

 

But he can’t. Ellie may believe in fairytales, but he’d be foolish to think there’s a magical fix-it for this.

 

-/-

 

He’s holding onto her hand and it feels foreign between her fingers, but so familiar where his finger tips are pressed to the back of her hand. She has this weird sense of awareness, not her usual one, that comes when he stokes her desire, but a new one, one that’s sort of fortune-teller like. She can’t see the future, but she can feel a bigger break coming on.

 

She can hear it in the shallow breaths he’s been taking since they left that back room. She can predict exactly when he’s thinking about it, not by the tell-tale way his face contorts momentarily every ten minutes or so, but how he glances over to her with a million different emotions swirling in his gorgeous, unrelenting blue eyes.

 

She’d lay awake that week away from him, wondering if their baby would have those blue eyes. Now she’s worried she’ll find herself right back there, pregnant, scared and alone wondering if her baby will watch her the way he is with these gorgeous blue eyes.

 

“Killian, I’m so sorry.” She whispers, but he silences her with a quick peak on the lips, releasing her hand. It’s the most frustrating thing to feel hope and heartache at the same damn time.

 

“I can’t stand next to you like this.” He breathes out in one whoosh that just knocks her on her ass. He won’t even look at her and she can’t stand to think about how bad it will make him look if she just starts sobbing in the middle of a ballroom.

 

And then he walks away.

 

Where she thought she’d be in tears, she finds fiery aggression, because he dragged her out here and told her to play pretend only to say it’s too much. So she follows him, because it’s not going to happen like this, they’re not going to… this just can’t end. There’s Ellie and a baby and a freshly open heart ready to fall for once and she’s not going to close herself off now. Not after all the chiseling he’s done.

 

He ducks into the men’s restroom, but she’s hardly afraid of seeing anything in there, so she follows suit. She finds him pinching the bridge of his nose and taking deep breaths, eyes watering and he just looks wrecked.

 

Once again she thinks the floodgates are going to open at the sight of what she did to him, but her mouth opens first.

 

“I-was-17-and-in jail-for-something-this-guy-did-and-I-thought-he-loved-me-but-he didn’t-and-I-was-pregnant-I-found-out-I-was-pregnant-and-I-was-only-17-and-in-jail.” It flies into the air, and even if she wanted to, she couldn’t catch it. It was too fast, like word vomit and she just…

 

“Emma?” He drops his hand from his face and stalks toward her, freezing when he hears a flush in one of the stalls behind him.

 

Go figure.

 

It’s been 23 seconds since her heart has had a beat. She’s suffered through a darkening room and the sound of blood rushing through her ears when the stall door swings open and she’s met with those more deceptive looking baby blues once again.

 

“August?”

 

“I’m really proud of you.” He whispers, all heartfelt like they’re even on speaking terms right now.

 

“August?” Killian turns instantly, just pure rage in his movements as he shoves her business partner against the tile wall. “You come here and you ruin everything and you can’t even introduce yourself? Bad form, mate.”

 

“Killian!” She gasps. “Killian, stop!”

 

“This is my family, my future. You could have done…you…” but she’s tugging violently at his forearm, trying her hardest to keep her prince from turning into a dark knight in a matter of seconds. His hand is gripping the throat of her longest lasting friendship. “Urgahhh!” He shouts, releasing August with an added thrust and pacing around the small area before the set of sinks.

 

“I get why you’re upset, and I apologized to Emma already,” August breaks in the middle, massaging at his throat to regain a less strained tone of voice. “But I, too, have a family, I, too, want a future.”

 

“August, you should leave.” Emma holds her ground, as stern as she can muster for as weak as her legs feel.

 

“I plan to.” He begins. “Tell your little girl ‘Happy Birthday’ for me.” And when he says it, he addresses them both. Killian lets him pass without another attempt of manslaughter, and for that she should be grateful, but she feels like they’re only that much deeper in this hole.

 

“For fucksake” he groans after the door swings closed. He’s running a very unstable hand through his hair and sinking back against a wall. “I’m sorry, I just…”

 

“Wanted someone to blame?” She finishes, because she knows the feeling, knows that she’d love to blame August for coming in here and ruining what was already a fragile situation; but she can’t. “Someone who isn’t me, because then you could still be with me?”

 

He meets her eyes from across the bathroom like she’s offended him worse than ever for suggesting he still be with her. It hurts worse than the way everything else had, because she told her secret and she thought through some sick, wounded-girl mindset he’d forgive her based on her scars alone.

 

“I can still be with you, Emma. I still want to be with you.”

 

Maybe he has.

 

“What?” she swallows down the urge to hope. “Why didn’t you say that sooner?”

 

“Because you told me it was over.” He hesitates to leave the wall he’s leaning against but she just wants to be in his arms already.

 

“Because I didn’t want to assume you’d just forgive me.”

 

“Holding onto anger and breaking up with someone you truly care about are not the same. I’m still angry, but I can’t imagine going back to not being with you.” He reaches out for her then, taking one slow step but she’s too eager about not breaking up, so she rushes to him. She cups his face and feels relief, he wraps his arms around her waist and she feels forgiven. He kisses her, not just a careless peck but something wonderful, with his lips slowly closing over hers, guiding them apart so they can truly breathe each other in. Yeah, he kisses her and she feels love.

 

For the first time, and it’s too soon, but it feels right. It feels a lot like love. What else is it called when one person can singe your heart just by being angry with you, the fear of losing them burns it to bits, and one kiss, one tender kiss can cause it to rise back to life like a phoenix?

 

“Thank you for sharing that with me, by the way.” He mentions, brushing his nose against her cheek when the kiss is paused. “We can talk more about it later, if you’re still alright with sharing. We’ll also talk about how you share an office with a man who doesn’t wash his hands after using the restroom.”

 

Her thoughtful, passionate, germaphobic love.

 

God, is it love.

 

He’s just not allowed to know.

 

-/-

 

She’s said it before, she’ll say it a million times more, Eloise is everything.

 

She’s actually glowing as she kneels to accept her crown from whatever dude Killian brought in to be the guy who crowns her. She knows he’s mentioned the name before. He knows the name of every profession ever.

 

And then she rises, and the rest of the room does this curtsey and she just starts giggling like a goofball overwhelmed by how loved she is.

 

The man who crowned her hands her this microphone and Emma doesn’t remember Killian and Ellie rehearsing any speech so god only knows what will spill out of the kid’s mouth, but they’re all watching.

 

“Uhm, so thank you everybody who brung presents. Me and Uncle Kilo are gonna take them to the home for little…” And then she looks to her uncle and he shouts ‘Wanderers’ to her and she thanks him like there isn’t a microphone or crowd of people around. “Right…they don’t have a lot of presents and I had this big party.”

 

And then she starts to fidget, roughly scratching at her forehead as her eyes just widen with tears. Emma thinks it’s performance anxiety, which is not necessary at all because no one expects a five-year-old to give a speech.

 

“Uhm…my mommy and daddy are gone and it’s sad but also it’s okay. It’s okay now ‘cause I can be my own queen and I have my uncle Kilo and he does all the jobs that mommy’s and daddy’s do. He does both, so it’s okay.” But Ellie’s sniffling, and it doesn’t sound okay. “I just really love him so so much, ‘cause he always loves me and makes me pancakes. So it’s okay. I don’t need a mommy or daddy. I just want to tell everybody that. And thanks for coming to my Core-oh-neigh-shun.”

 

Everyone’s clapping, but she’s handing the mic to the man in the furry cape and dashing off the platform and straight for her uncle, one hand holding onto her heavy crown as she goes. That’s when Emma gets a look at Killian, tears streaming down his face as he smothers his kid in his embrace, chanting praise and promises of love, always.

 

And they’re miles away from okay. They have too much to discuss, too much to shift through, but he’s amazing, and Ellie is perfect and she loves them.

 

So she’ll fight like hell to stay, even if most of the battles are against herself.

 

-/-

 

And he asks her, when they’re home for the night, and Ellie is tucked in her bed, hair brushed through and birthday wishes met, he asks her after he’s helped her get out of that big red dress, and he’s shed his own clothes, and they’re laying comfy in his bed. He asks her everything on his mind.

 

He asks her about Robin. It’s particularly painful to hear how fearful he sounds when he asks her if he was involved, if she knew if he knew anything about it, because he was the one who forced him to hire the man who came to corrupt their company.

 

She tells him that she never saw his name anywhere, and off the record, she thinks he’s too good a guy to hurt him.

 

And then he asks her about August and her plans moving forward. He asks if she even thought through how chasing perps in maternity jeans would pan out? He doesn’t mention anything about not wanting her to continue their friendship, but the way he feels tonight, with everything so fresh in his mind… she knows if she asked a question of her own, he wouldn’t lie.

 

And of course, he asks about prison, about Neal, about how she got there, and if she knows anything about the baby she gave up.

 

She doesn’t lie. She’s not ever going to tell him another lie.

 

“I got into this recovery business to find people, namely Neal. I searched for two years and gave up, on the off chance that he was dead. It’d be easier if he was dead.” And he doesn’t judge her, just pulls her closer, and buries his nose in her hair. “And his name is Henry. I never held him, it was a closed adoption and I’m not supposed to know, but I found him a few years ago. He’s living with his mother in some small town in Maine where she’s the mayor.”

 

“Did it make you feel better to know?”

 

“No.” she tells the truth. “But prison was the first place in three years I had a consistent space to rest my head at night. I ask myself over and over if I gave him up for him… or for me.” Tears soak her pillowcase as she stares at the full moon beyond the bay windows in his room.

 

“Whatever your answer may be, it’s a good one.”

 

“Killian.”

 

“Both is fine, for you is fine, for him is fine.” He breathes so heavy it perspires below her ear. “For his mother is fine too. If Liam and Elsa left her to anyone else, I don’t know what I’d do. She recreated life for me, and I’m certain Henry did too.”

 

And maybe there’s a huge hole in her heart, but if Henry is half as happy as Ellie despite never knowing his birth parents, then maybe she’s the only one with that hole, and that’s something she can live with.

 

She turns to him when she hears the resonating echo of what he just said bounce back against the walls of her mind. “Ellie…she does that for me too. And I know, I know that’s crazy and that I barely know her, but I swear I’d lay down in front of a bus for her. She’s the first kid I’ve been able to look in the eyes and not feel regret. She gives me peace, Killian, and I’ve never thought to love anyone else again, but I love her so much, I love her so much.”

 

“I know you do.” It’s admirable, him trying to brush away her tears, but there are too many to stop from cascading down. The moonlight causes a few of his own to gleam and twinkle. “I’m sorry I doubted you earlier. I was angry, I was afraid maybe it was all in my head.”

 

“You have a right to, I know what I did.” She knows what she deserves, but when he’s laying here, holding her like she’s still everything he ever said she was, she knows people don’t always get what they deserve. Sometimes less, in his case, less; but, sometimes more. In her case, so much more.

 

She has to turn away again, wiggling as far back as possible in his embrace to keep from saying more than she’s ready to.

 

It doesn’t stop her from silently sobbing the rest of the night. It doesn’t stop him from sniffling a bit too. But if they weren’t laying awake in silence next to each other, there’s no telling what either of them would do.

 

 

 


	10. Offer Rejected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know people want fluff, and there’s fluff in there, but they’re still healing and dealing. I hope that’s okay. And thank you all so much for reading and commenting. It’s really the bees knees. Thanks so much to RavenclawPianist for being my beta on this piece

 

**Offer Rejected**

 

“You fight me on everything,” Killian groans, tossing his keys on the counter carelessly instead of in the monogrammed catch-all one of his associates bought him for last year’s secret Santa.

 

(She still has yet to discover what the B in KBJ stands for. She thought orphans didn’t get middle names.)

 

“You want to control everything!” she argues back, even though she knows he’s not. She argues back when she’d rather lay down her guns and surrender. She argues back because that still small, pestering voice reminds her what her life has been like and self-preservation is a must.

 

It’s not that he wants to own her, he wants her safe. She knows the scars he has, knows that he’s fearful every time she gets into her car at night, afraid her brakes will give out, or the engine will die in the middle of some intersection and he’ll lose both her and the baby.

 

He wants her to get rid of her car. He says it’s unreliable because maybe twice in the last month he had to jump it for her. It’s not the end of the world. Her brakes are fine, her engine purrs, and she had her own jumper cables. Besides, it’s the one thing she owns in this world. It’s the only back up plan she’s ever had. She’s not getting rid of it.

 

He doesn’t want to own her, he wants to keep her safe. She just can’t agree because ‘safe’ to him is not a luxury she can afford. ‘Safe’ to her is never having to lean on someone, and he wants to take that from her. So she fights. And he fights back.

 

“No, I want a say in something, which has yet to happen once, so perhaps I ask frequently. Give me a bone and I’ll leave you alone on the next few things that come up.”

 

“Not this bone.” She shakes her head defiantly before moving into the kitchen and grabbing the coffee creamer from the fridge. “I’m not selling the bug. I don’t care what you want next, and if I hate that idea too, then oh well. You’re not _my_ dad, Killian.”

 

She really can’t get something in her mouth fast enough to keep her from making these stupid anger-flaring comments. She’s busying herself all the while getting a glass from the cupboard, filling it with ice and pouring the creamer into it before raising it to her lips.

 

“What are you doing?” he panics, basically snatching the glass from her. “You can’t just drink this, Emma!”

 

“It’s what the baby wants,” she shrugs before reaching for the glass again, but suddenly he’s Andre the freaking giant and decides to hold it above her reach. “And there you go again, trying to control me.”

 

“I just want what’s best for you, for us.” It’s the idea of ‘us’ that silences the majority of her thoughts about being calm, and letting him win. It’s that stupid ‘us’ reference that makes this too real again, and she can only hear that small voice turning into a roar as it shifts into the control seat of her vocal chords and punches back at the thought of them being an ‘us.’

 

“No, you want to be the boss. Maybe at Jolly Roger Inc you are, maybe under your roof you can be, but I will drive my shitty car back to my unsafe apartment and drink all the toxic iced creamer I want. You don’t own me.”

 

And his face falls just as he sets the glass back on the counter before leaving the kitchen.

 

This isn’t the argument about a car, this is the argument about keeping her apartment. They were laying in bed a few days back, he was playing in her hair and kissing her neck and he used the phrase ‘Always’ like maybe they could ‘always be like this’ or she would ‘never’ have to leave him an hour earlier if she had everything she needed here. They were pretty words and a wonderful idea, but they scared the shit out of her, so she flew off the handle.

 

It wasn’t nearly as passionately fought on his side, he slouched in defeat and when she finished advising that they don’t even know each other, and she can’t shotgun-marry him because he knocked her up, he rolled over and let her win. Winning never feels good, and she knows she should stop fighting to do it, but every argument she has aloud with him, she has three even louder with herself in her head.

 

Her lease is up in a week. She hasn’t told him that part. She plans on putting down the first and last month’s rent on a new place this Wednesday, but they rescheduled their doctor appointment for that day, and he likes to cling to her all day after appointments.

 

(She likes to cling to him too.)

(Which is why it stings to watch him walk away)

 

“Killian?”

 

“Drive safe. If the piece of shit doesn’t start, call Gus downstairs.” He speaks as he enters the bedroom.

 

She enters her second trimester next week and it’s not like she isn’t already in love with him… She’s just battling every moment to give in to what those two things mean, and why living with him wouldn’t hurt one bit. She wonders how he knows the likes and dislikes she’s never mentioned, but can’t see the war behind her eyes, or how even when they’re arguing she’s leaning into him.

 

If he were still standing here, would he hear how her knees tremble against the fierce urge to leave, and the strong desire to rush after him?  

 

-/-

 

Of course she left after their argument. He has no one to blame but himself. He knows she’s limited with how much she’s willing to give him, but he pushes her for more anyhow.

 

Maybe it’s the fear that there are many more secrets, or maybe it’s the fact that he just wants to know she wants this more.

 

That Scarlet secret didn’t destroy them, but it very well could have. He may have pushed himself into forgiveness a lot sooner for the sake of saving their relationship, but he doesn’t want to be without her; not even for a day, not even when she’s mad and takes to leaving like she always does when she’s mad.

 

He visits her at work the next day. He brings ‘apology’ bear claws to the office building she’s been sharing with August. Maybe he even put a few extra in there to apologize for gripping the man’s throat.  He figures it couldn’t hurt his case with Emma.

 

Only Emma isn’t there.

 

When Killian enters, there’s just the shocked expression of a man uncomfortable with his presence. He has all of these boxes pulled out and barely anything on the far side of the office walls. On the desk he’s hovering over, the monitor is off, the keyboard hanging on top of it. There’s an envelope on what he assumes to be Emma’s desk with her name written on it.

 

“Emma didn’t come in today,” August supplies as Killian’s eyes are still panning around the room.

 

“Did you two break up?” He doesn’t mean it to sound anything but concerned. The partnership looks finished, it looks like he’s moving out of a place they’ve shared together for years and to be honest, it is a startling resemblance to the nightmarish daydreams he thinks up whenever Emma is miffed at him. It’s that haunting image of dividing spaces and moving boxes and words left unsaid.

 

“Scarlet’s payoff is enough for me to take a year off, try my hand at professionally writing, traveling around like a nomad and finally feeling free.” It was that big? He knew it had to be big. There had to be a reason, but how big? He needs to know exactly how big. He needs to know the exact reason. “I don’t need to watch after her anymore, you’re here now.”

 

“How long have you been watching after her?” he sets the box of bear claws on the desk beside which August is standing. Perhaps it’s a bit intimidating of him to have entered this man’s space, but there’s no peace treaty more fair than one settled over a box of Granny’s pastries.

 

“Since she got out of prison,” August peaks in the box before nodding in approval and finally meeting Killian’s eyes. “I was her parole officer. After the 18 month parole, she still hadn’t mentioned having anyone in her life. I thought maybe I should stay. I’m glad I did, but now… well, now I don’t need to and I can focus on me.”

 

“Is this about…” He’s actually very good at apologies, so it’s not that he’s having trouble forming words. He just isn’t certain he has too much to apologize for yet and he’d like to get a little further in this conversation, learn a little more before he goes out and is downright kind to this man. “Do you not want us together, August?”

 

“I do,” he replies slow as hell for just two syllables. He has the most expressively lost eyes Killian’s ever had to look into. His intentions are never clear, and whatever talents he has with fiction should be paired with them to become a world class poker player.

 

“Well, mate, if you’d like to elaborate on why you think it’s high-time to abandon her, I’d love to hear it. I’m not going to come between the two of you. I know my place.”

 

“I’m not abandoning her.” He replies, just as airy and lifeless. If someone had accused Killian of doing the same, it would be an all out war. “I trust I’m leaving her in good hands. This is the most growth she’s ever had. That thing about the first pregnancy, she has never told anyone. The only reason I know is because I got a hold of her file when she was let out. She told you, that means something.”

 

If she had told him on her own terms, he’d believe that. If she hadn’t been needing to prove how real things were between them, he would feel differently about being the only one who knows.

 

“Does she know you’re leaving?”

 

“Yeah. We’ve always talked about it. Once we got a chance, she’d get her own place, stand on her own two feet, and I’d soar off to be the man I always wanted to be. Maybe come back by the end of a year, but with the new baby, I doubt we’ll come back at all. This isn’t the profession for a mother of two.”

 

It’s the second time he’s indicated Ellie being theirs. He doesn’t know what happened when she was sitting in the office with Emma all week, but he knows Ellie is rather fond of him. Maybe he saw what Killian always sees when those two are side by side.

 

And if he didn’t dream about them being a family before, if he didn’t spend his business meetings thinking of vacationing together, starting back up those summer camping trips and just enjoying each other every holiday they get, he certainly does now with this baby on the way.

 

Maybe it’s reassuring to know he’s not the only one who sees it.

 

“I’m not going to say you owe me anything,” Killian begins “But I need to know how much the payoff was. Emma doesn’t want to tell me, which only makes me feel worse about the whole thing, and I need this to work. I don’t… I can’t live with myself if this doesn’t work out. I just need everything aired out.”

 

“You want me to spill one of her secrets after you told me it was a secret?”

 

“Again, I’m not saying you owe it to me, _mate_ , but you did use Ellie as a pawn in your plan, and I’d be willing to leave this entire box of bear claws, specially made with love from Granny’s.”

 

“The man is a monster of a thief. They wanted him dead or alive, if we’re being honest.”

 

“If we’re being honest, how much?”

 

“125 grand, each.”

 

“EACH?”

 

“Direct your anger elsewhere, comrade,” August smirks like the deception is funny. It’s hard to believe he doesn’t want them to break up, because he seems to be enjoying his strife so damn much. “Emma thinks ass-backward. She always has. It’s like the thoughts in her head are reversed and the worst possible idea seems like the best. Give her credit for trying to come up with the best idea.”

 

He doesn't need anyone telling him how to give her credit, or to give her a break. He is constantly supplying that on his own because he knows she’s deserving of it.

 

He doesn't need advice on how to love her.

 

"Right. Well, for your cooperation, and because it was bad form to put my hands on you, enjoy these bear claws and your soul-searching. Happy travels, mate.”

 

“Thank you. Tell Emma to send me a registry reminder. I'll get your kid something great.”

 

He feels the smile reach his eyes, whether he wanted it to or not. August may not be the most honest man he has met, but he thinks anyone who has supported Emma throughout the years is deserving of a pardon.

 

-/-

 

The knock at the door sounds like a bunch of Tupperware’s and a love letter she’s excited to receive. It's not exactly disappointment when she sees the man who usually sends them instead.

 

“Hey?”

 

“Hey.” He’s never actually been to her place. He drops her off on the steps out front no matter how much it unnerves him to kiss her goodnight 30 feet from her front door.

 

She drives him crazy with all her secrecy, but she loses her senses at the idea of her stupid little life being introduced to him and his classy gentleman appeal. She never cleans out the fridge, she eats cereal out of coffee mugs, there are always wet towels on the bathroom floor and the person she is when he’s not around really doesn't deserve him.

 

But he’s here now, inching his toes closer to hers with the intent of coming inside

 

“Love?”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“I think that if you insist on keeping our child away from me, I should be able to see where you'll be hiding them.” He’s wearing a pretty smug grin, but he’s not at all pleased.

 

“Oh… Here I thought you wanted to make up.” She rolls her eyes as he presses past her.

 

“No, I went to your office to do that, even brought you bear claws.”

 

“Well, where the hell are those?” Because her appetite is at an all-time high and a bear claw is better than… almost better than sex.

 

(Which she’d also take as a form of making up because that appetite includes sex with her gorgeous boyfriend)

 

“I left them with August,” he comments, peering around at her surroundings like they're dirty and beneath him. She could be imagining it, he could be avoiding eye contact with her because she’s a dirty liar who is beneath him. Who knows?

 

“Why would you give him of all people my bear claws?”

 

“Because he’s honest.” _He knows_. She wants to reply, but isn’t sure what to say so she waits for his face to contort, his jaw to clench and more words to seep out. “125 thousand dollars?” It’s not the growl she was expecting, but a fragile, half-whisper where he started out with intent to shout, but the weight of his pain was too much for him.

 

She wishes she had said something.

 

“Whoa, hello handsome stranger in our living room?” Lily has been home too much lately and it has never really annoyed her as much as it does right now. He’s on the edge of snapping and she’s…

 

Did she just flirt with him?

 

“Lily,” she takes a deep breath before continuing because her hormones and her self-control don’t mesh too well these days. “This is Killian, Killian, this is my roommate Lily.” He’s still a prince when he turns to greet her, a slightly lacking smile and a kind nod.

 

“T’s a pleasure.”

 

“Whoa, a British, handsome stranger in our living room.”

 

“He’s not a stranger, he’s my boyfriend.”

 

(She thinks)

 

(He wouldn’t just break up with her now…right?)

 

“Boyfriend?” And then she does this dragon-like laugh that sounds like chain-smoked cigarettes and an after school special. “Right. You haven’t had a boyfriend since you were like, 16.”

 

“You…you didn’t mention me?” She knows his thoughts, he thinks she really doesn’t give a shit about him, and that hurts worse each time that devastated look in his eyes turns up.

 

“Of course I did. She just doesn’t listen any better than you do. I mentioned both of you to each other enough times,” she explains, reaching to touch him, anywhere, but he’s moving away from her to shake Lily’s grimy hand.

 

“No, I’d definitely remember you saying something about screwing a hot English dude. How long have you two been together?”

 

“Two months.” But she means four, but even her own voice is against her and she swears to God she meant four. Throw her a fucking bone, her mind is one edge at the idea of Killian knowing how much she got for lying, and how he doesn’t even look angry this time, just hurt. She’s afraid, her thoughts a jumbled, so she says two.

 

“Closer to four.” He corrects, this incredulous glare meeting her apologetic one.

 

“Killian… can we take this to my room, please.”

 

“I think I should…”

 

“Please,” she persists before he can excuse himself from her apartment and maybe even her life with the way this is going. He sends one last smile to Lily before shuffling in the direction Emma’s guiding him.

 

The door closes and his shoulders drop before she can breathe a word of apology.

 

“Don’t quit this. I swear I meant to say four, and I didn’t want you to know how much the payoff was because I didn’t want you to look at me like you’re looking at me.”

 

“How am I looking at you?” He whispers, keeping his eyes on her surroundings, lingering on the nightstand with the two letters he wrote her resting beside a barely sipped bottle of water.

 

“Killian, I swear I meant to say four.”

 

“Okay,” he nods, voice still barely there, and a strong indication of how he’d like to be barely here too.

 

“And I mentioned you to Lily enough times, she’s just being a total bitch right now.”

 

“Emma?”

 

“She is, I told her I have a boyfriend. I didn’t mention the particulars, and she will never _ever_ meet Ellie but I told her.”

 

“How are you going to have our child here?” She wants to stop talking right now. He looks so hurt and she feels it everywhere. She wants to end the conversation now and just make up. If they could just make up and make believe that none of this is in the air until that look leaves his face, maybe she could stop feeling like the worst thing to ever happen to him.

 

“I’m not.”

 

And, of course she thought the hurt was bad, because she hasn't seen much else lately; but he lets this small glimpse of hope peek through and she realizes it’s because he thinks she’ll be moving in with them.

 

And it is moments like this her brain tells her to just lie. He won’t be crushed if she just lies.

 

“Because the lease is up next week and I found another place that I can afford now by myself.” He looks at the door like it’s time to go, and she starts spewing out her reasoning like it will keep his feet from moving. “It’s closer to Ellie’s school, it’s a two bedroom, I can have her with me whenever you want, and she can stay the night. It’s a better neighborhood. I can pick her up from school, the kitchen isn’t a shoebox so you can come over after work, we can cook dinner together. It will be better than this.”

 

“Stop it,” His furrowed brow indicates he meant it as a demand, as an order. It just comes out in this desperate plea. All she does is hurt him. “You knew weeks ago that you were going to do this.”

 

“Yeah, I did,” she confesses. “But I don’t have to tell you every decision I make, Killian. Four months isn’t marriage. I don’t have to discuss my choices with my significant other. That’s stupid. I’m not that girl.” She thought that side of her was sleeping during this argument. She thought it didn’t have to be an argument for once, because that annoying inkling of fear about this relationship was resting somewhere else.

 

“So you were just going to move, and I was going to have no idea where you or my child lay your heads at night?”

 

“Don’t be stupid. Of course I was going to tell you. I just… God! Do I get a damn choice in anything? Do we?”

 

“Yes. It’s all your choices Emma.”

 

“No, no it’s not. I didn’t choose to be pregnant with your kid. I barely chose to date you.”

 

_What is she saying?_

 

“I’m not forcing you to do that. If you…”

  
“I don’t want to break up.” She rushes to amend. “That’s not what I’m saying. I really like being with you when we’re not arguing. I just want these big steps to be based on how much we like each other and not this baby. That’s all I’m saying. We were barely together, and I loved every second of it, I swear, but I just, I…how many real dates have we been on? Ya know? Why don’t we make out like teenagers enough? Hmm? These are things I want back from the first couple weeks of dating. We didn’t get that much of it. I just want it back.”

 

“Okay. I can give you that.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair and letting go of the intensity that was just coursing through him seconds ago. “I can be… I’ll be that for you again.”

 

“You’ll make out with me a lot again?” She grins because how could she not at the thought of making out with her really hot British boyfriend? He’s hers, and she does secretly love him. How can she not smile when she thinks about just kissing him?

 

“Yes. And I’ll take you out on more dates, and I’ll do what early romances do, like in those silly films you love. I’ll do that for you.” She takes a seat on the edge of her bed, patting the spot beside her thigh. And he does take a seat, but he stalls her from leaning into him with a sensual feeling hand to her waist. “But you have to do something for me. You want all these early moments, but I need to know we can have that and the accelerated ones as well. We’ll be honest with each other, Emma, I mean it.”

 

“I won’t hurt you again, Killian,” she promises, resting her hands on his chest, one slowly creeping up to tangle in his hair. She knows it’s the rational version of herself speaking, when their eyes meet and his heart rises beneath her fingertips. “You mean so much to me, and I hate hurting you. I don’t ever want that. I promise.”

 

“I don’t want to hurt you either, I don’t like making you upset. I hate watching you cry. I despise it with a passion, I swear to all that’s holy.”

 

“You’re so cute when you swear on all that’s holy,” she whispers, inching her face closer to his because all the energy from arguing has to be diffused somehow. “Or…sexy. Like really sexy. I always forget that you’re my boyfriend when I look at you.”

 

“You used that term quite a bit for the lass who hates labels.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m also an orphan, I’ve never really had anything to claim before now, hence why I’m so territorial of my belongings. You… you’re better than any belonging, because you’re real, and sexy and…”

 

“Crazy about you.”

 

“Yeah…that.” He leans a bit closer, grazing his nose against hers and she feels the same butterflies she longs for whenever he comes around. It’s been a hard few weeks in their relationship, and she just wants to get back to butterflies and kisses that leave her breathless. “I never tell you how happy I am that you’re still mine. Still perfect, still handsome as ever, still mine.”

 

“Emma? Fuck.” He curses, his breath fluttering against her cheek.

 

“What is it?”

 

“You,” And she can feel his lip quiver against her skin. “You.”

 

“Are you speechless, Jones?” She wraps her arms around his neck, crawling into his lap and pressing him against the old headboard she bought at a flea market up coast. “My very romantic, poetic boyfriend is speechless? Never.”

 

His breath continues to puff out in short, harsher cycles, but still no words come out, and she thinks she knows exactly what he’s feeling. He’s made her feel it enough times. She can catalogue each one, beginning from the moment they met.

 

“What is it? Do you feel like your heart is beating too quickly against your lungs like I do whenever you make me feel this way? Like you can't catch your breath, let alone your thoughts.”

 

“Yeah…” he exhales shakily, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her closer as he adjusts himself to sit fully on her bed.

 

"Well, I had no idea I had that affect on you… _love_.” She grins against his lips, but he pulls back slightly to meet her eyes.

 

“I had no idea you cared for me that much.” And now it's her breath catching on the look in his eyes and the way he honestly doesn't know how real this is for her.

 

“Baby…” she begins, cupping his jaw with one hand, slipping her fingers as lovingly as she can through his hair to convey the message as his eyes widen at the term.

 

“Baby?” He chokes on the word. “S’that a term of endearment? From you to me?”

 

“Yes.” She implores. “Killian, you mean so much more to me than you think.”

 

“Yeah?” He lifts a challenging eyebrow and she nods a replying. “Show me?” And the look in his eyes has finally settled on something she can be happy about for the first time since he got here.

 

He watches with the corners of his mouth tipped up just enough to know he’s in better spirits and a more confident headspace.

 

“Kay.”

 

She doesn't hesitate to press her lips to his, she knows she loves when he kisses her more, but relationships are all about equality and compromise, so she presses into him, settling on his lap further and taking time to really appreciate what ‘mine’ means to her.

 

What he means to her.

 

(Maybe he’ll appreciate it too.)

 

He lets her lead like he’s still in shock. She never realized how huge of an ego boost it is to make someone else feel wanted. God, does she want him. She wants him now, she wants him later. She wants him for as long as she can make this last, and in all ways. She wants him to become her best friend, the person she trusts with everything, tells everything to, wants to experience everything with. She thinks she needs him as her partner in this pregnancy, and later on in parenting. She knows how great he is at it, and if she’s picking a winning team, she wants the MVP. He’s definitely the MVP.

 

She wants him physically, too. Her body has finally stopped hating her and she feels like a second wind has kicked in. She makes it through the day without napping and never feels the nausea anymore. She pretty much just cleared herself for sex, but she’ll be good and sure with Whale tomorrow.

 

"You know…” She tugs her lip between her teeth and beams at him. “I feel so much better lately.”

 

“Yeah?” He’s strumming her hips with his fingers, and watching her like she's everything to him, like she’s never hurt him, never lied. God help her, she never wants to again.

 

He starts to move down her waist, fingers playing at the apex of her thighs and the yoga pants she's wearing leave little barrier between his fingertips and her goose bumps. She’s never been more relieved that her jeans don't fit when she can almost feel his skin on her skin.

 

"Have you been feeling that good?”

 

“I could be?” and she hasn't looked at any of those stupid bookmarked articles in her phone or the What to Expect app he downloaded for both of them, but she did research positions he wouldn't fight her on when it came to having sex. Maybe her priorities are mixed up.

 

The reality is between him trying to forgive her and her trying to cope with this pregnancy, they haven't been as intimate as she wants and/or needs. When he’s not upset, he’s coddling her and doting on her, but he’s not giving her what she’s truly after.  Him.

 

"Books say me on top is the best way.”

 

“Yeah? You read the books?”

 

"No, I read the yahoo answers that have people saying what the books said. It's like spark notes for pregnancy.”

 

“You haven't read the books, the protective seal is still on the bottle of vitamins... Emma?”

 

“There is something so sexy about the way you're constantly scolding me. Those things are horse pills and those books are the stuff they put in stables to absorb the horse shit. I am not a horse.”

 

"No, you're more like a bull,” he knocks his forehead against hers gently, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips that relaxes her shoulders and makes her want to retract her stubborn horns. It's the kind of kiss that makes her lick her lips afterward, trying her best to savor the sweetness provided with it.

 

Has she mentioned she just really loves kissing him?

 

"If by that you mean I'm horny, you would be correct.” She sighs against his lips, causing a chuckle to rumble from his gut. She usually loves making him laugh, but she really wants to make him do other things right now. “Baby…” she begins again, reveling in his sharp inhale.

 

“Anything.” He replies before she can finish. “Anything you're about to ask, yes,” he promises breathlessly. She thinks she just found his switch, and it's probably going to be the death of him.

 

-/-

 

He knows she’ll be the death of him. She is Heaven and Hell and it makes him fucking weak. What makes him helpless is the idea that this woman, this infuriatingly gorgeous woman could be in love with him.

 

He’s willing to go through Hell a thousand times on the off chance that this beautifully exhausting woman is in love with him. She’s curled into his side, softly breathing against his bare chest, and he thinks he feels the air chilling his heart, as it seizes up with each exhale. It aches so tragically well when she calls him ‘baby’ like she loves him.

 

He’s been cross with God this entire time, hasn’t spoken a word to him since cursing his name for taking Liam and Elsa, but now he finds himself silently praying he’s not wrong. If hope breeds eternal misery, he will be one sorry soul if he’s wrong. So he prays to God he’s not wrong, and Emma Swan may actually be falling in love with him.

 

“Mmmm.” She purrs beside him, vibrating his ribs just the slightest. “You’re thinking too loud, can’t sleep.”

 

“What are you on about? I haven’t said a word.”

 

“Your heart keeps picking up pace, and it’s too loud.” She complains, tossing herself to lay on her other side. Her bed creaks and squeaks with every movement, and he’s certain if her roommate didn’t know who he was before, she’ll have no doubts who he is to Emma now.

 

“Apologies, lass. I’ll learn how better to tame the bodily functions that keep me alive.”

 

“What are you thinking about?”

 

“I was… I guess I was actually frightened to wake a sleeping bull, but I have to go fetch Ellie and take her to ballet.” She groans something unintelligible in reply, slapping her hand down on the mattress with a huff. “You could come if you’d like, Love?”

 

“Oh, no. I hate those women.” She confesses just as blunt as she wants to be. She’s still the fiery woman he met in the grocers that day, and pregnancy has done nothing to quell her spark. “God, they’re awful. Poor Miss Ella, putting up with those obnoxious mothers.”

 

“Then I guess I’ll see you in the morning for our appointment?”

 

He rises from the bed, searching for his jeans, but purposefully leaving his briefs on the floor like she does so frequently at his place. He always revels in the flashback picking her delicate things provides him. This is the first time he’s been to her place, the first chance he’s had to leave something of his behind.

 

He watches her watch him, with her sheets draped over her body like a Grecian fashion statement. Her hair fans the length of her pillowcase, still resting at the waved ends on his. He just made love to a goddess, and now he has to leave her and that’s when the bitterness of it all comes back.

 

Because a few weeks ago, when she’d leave to go home, he somehow thought it was temporary, constantly dreaming up their perfect life coming together in the form of unpacked moving boxes and his and her sinks in the master bathroom of their new home. Somehow, he didn’t figure in how independent Emma Swan can be, and the idea of leaving her after visits not coming to an end any time soon is…

 

It’s more than he wants to delve into right now. He promised her they’d get back to ‘good’ and constantly battling for more is the most selfish mistake he could make.

 

“Pick you up, say, nine?” he suggests as she walks him to the door in a satin robe and bed hair. She was leaning in to kiss him goodbye, but stops short when he mentions a time.

 

“Maybe we should take separate cars…” she tugs at the flesh of her lip momentarily, like it’s prepping her for the discomfort to come. He feels as if he should be the one preparing though, and his body’s natural response is the tightening of his jaw and the way he tenses up when she eyes him like their happy bubble’s about to burst.

 

“Any particular reason?”

 

“I’m… I told you I was going to the new place tomorrow to put a deposit.”

 

“Tomorrow?” He tries his best to stay even, to stay in this blissful, less confrontational sphere, but how can she be so hasty with this decision, and it took her a month to decide he was worth a shot? “How long is the lease you’re signing?”

 

“A year…”

 

“Oh…” Being silent is dreadful, he feels like fleeing from the building as quickly as he can, because he just wants to scream and shout. This is supposed to work out, they’re supposed to compromise and work out but a year is so damn long, and the baby will be born in sooner time. How long is he supposed to live with them only half in his life?

 

“Hey?” she cups his jaw, guiding his eyes to meet hers. They twinkle with sincerity as she continues. “It doesn’t mean I’m never gonna be at your place. Just means, some nights we can stay at mine.”

 

“Can I see this place, I know my opinion means nothing, and you’re gonna do what you want, but I’d like to at least see it, first?” She waits to respond, waits until her arms are around his waist, and her mouth is flush against his neck.

 

“Yes” she mutters into his skin. “Your opinion matters, pick me up at nine. Bring my bear claws and we’ll go after seeing Whale.”

 

-/-

 

He shows up at 8:50. It’s like he knew she was going to rush to meet him downstairs at 9. So he knocks at 8:50 and she rushes to answer, happy that Lily is still sleeping.

 

(She’s just not sure why Lily is still sleeping _here_ though.)

 

“Hey,” she grins, and it’s only been like twelve hours, and she now has the luxury of her sheets smelling like him, but when she wraps her arms around him, it’s Nirvana.

 

“Hello, Beautiful,” his voice is low against her ear, giving her half a mind to go back and smear some more of his scent on her sheets. When they release each other she sees he’s got the box from Granny’s and a bag from Roche Bros.

 

“I’ll take these” she says, practically snatching the box from him. “What the hell is that though?”

 

“This is for you.” He explains like it wasn’t obvious. Why else would he bring it up here?

 

“Okay…” His eyes flash with amusement as he watches her anticipation rise. Without answering, he walks into her closest of a kitchen, setting the contents of the bag on the sliver of counter space she has, one by one.

 

“Very Vanilla Soy Milk, Gummy Prenatal Vitamins and a water bottle that has these nice little affirmations for each 8 ounces you drink.” It’s red. She told him red was her favorite color once and now whenever he picks her up things from water bottles to lollipops, they’re always red.

 

“Cute, but soy milk is gross, I’ll try the gummies, and that is not a water bottle, that is a gallon bottle that I can’t even pick up. So…?”

 

“Get a glass,” he dismisses the previous rejection. It could be a standoff, but this is the very type of unappreciative behavior that leaves him wondering if she cares at all. She gets a coffee mug, they only really have coffee mugs here. He doesn’t think twice, just pours the milk into the cup and presses it toward her.

 

“You first,” she frowns.

 

“Swan?”

 

“Fine,” she folds, taking the mug to her lips, ready to cringe but pleasantly surprised by how great it is. “This kind of tastes like…”

 

“Coffee creamer? Yeah, I figured. Turns out, that’s not a bazaar craving. This however is fortified with so many benefits for you and the baby,” he has this smug little grin that keeps her from praising him herself. She just quietly sips her soy milk and pretends to read the carton.

 

“And I have one at my place should you ever want to sleep over,” he says it like the days of them waking in his bed together are over. They’re not, she’s not saying she doesn’t love being with him, sleeping with him, staying over at his place. She’s just saying she wants to keep a place of her own. “Although, Ellie is quite fond of it too, so there may be a bit of a battle between you two.”

 

“Says it’s loved by kids.”

 

“Yeah, so are gummy vitamins. Fitting, right?” he’s wearing a full on shit-eating grin and she could just smack him, but he knows her too well, and that is more deserving of a kiss than anything else.

 

-/-

 

The appointment is actually a breeze this time. Whale comments on how happy they look, asks if there’s anything in particular they need to go over. Killian shakes his head for once, not prepared to enter the sudden death bonus round with their doctor.

 

She’s actually the one to ask a few questions this time around.

 

“How soon can we know the sex?”

 

“More than likely at your next appointment.”

 

“Am I cleared for sex?” Whale’s face splits into a grin, as his eyes launch from Emma to Killian and back to Emma.

 

“Do you feel alright? Have you had any pain while attempting?” she catches Killian smile and drop his chin to his chest.

 

“Not even a little bit,” she answers smugly, proud that she was right yesterday. “That means I’m good?”

 

“I know your hormones are changing, along with whatever previous nausea and fatigue you had prior. If you want it, and he’s willing, take your time, pay attention to unfamiliar discomfort, and maybe try a few positions outlined in a pamphlet I could give you?”

 

“Sure thing,” Emma grins, on fluffy cloud nine because she’s officially clear to be with her boyfriend as often as they like, and she hopes he’ll like it often, hopes he craves her as badly as she craves him.

 

“Any other questions Ms. Swan? Or Mr. Jones?” Emma shakes her head, too happy about the news. She knows mothers tend to wonder about much more than sex but, there are really only two things she’s thinking about other than that. Food and Ellie.

 

“Can I lift a five-year-old?” It comes out like a normal question but Whale gives her this puppy dog tilted head anyhow.

 

“I'm sorry?”

 

“Killian’s niece is in our lives permanently. We haven't told her about the baby yet and whenever I pick her up in my arms, Killian gives me this death glare like I should know better. She’s light as a feather, is it dangerous for me to pick her up?”

                                                                                                                                          

“How much does she weigh?”

 

“38 pounds,” Killian answers, obviously a bit annoyed she’s brought it up. “And Emma bends at the waist and settles the weight on her hip.”

 

“That's a little heavier than you should be lifting entering your second trimester, and if you keep doing it in your third you'll open yourself up to a number of complications. I'm sure she’ll understand.”

 

“Right,” Emma mumbles, unhappy she didn't win that round.

 

"Anything else?”

 

“Can I eat sushi? Not like raw stuff but maybe a California roll?”

 

“I don't recommend it,” Whale disagrees and she can see Killian’s shoulders straightening like he won the war. He’s 2 for 3 and maybe parenting isn't about this, but the competition is the only thing motivating her to read the stupid books and articles.

 

“I think we’re done here,” Killian grins. “Ultrasound if you please?”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

And then the baby shows up on screen with this creepy three-dimensional imaging that makes Killian laugh whole-heartedly in an attempt to release the emotion choking him up.

 

She loves how emotional he is, how she doesn't have to guess what mood he’s in or how he feels about anything because it's written on his face. She loves that even when he’s silent, he’s honest. She’s never trusted someone this much but he makes it easy.

 

She thinks the baby looks weird this way, but her heart flutters at the sight anyhow. Maybe she’s faking the cynical act. Maybe she’s getting excited. Maybe having Killian’s kid isn't so bad.

 

He’s not so bad. She knows he’s not bad at all, and the way he’s treating her, fingers running through her hair, lips returning to her forehead every three seconds or so, makes her think she’s not so bad either.

 

A life with Killian Jones wouldn’t really be bad at all.

 

-/-

 

His stomach is in knots just thinking about seeing this place.

 

Everything he was feeling in the doctor’s office is a complete contrast to how he feels now, because then, he was happy to be having a child with Emma, and now he’s afraid this child will only be his when Emma wants, the rest of the time, he’ll be on hold. He can’t handle a part-time option with her or the baby. It’s not fair to him or Ellie to be separated from a new loved one, and this apartment represents all the distance in the world.

 

(And it’s really not that much closer to Ellie’s school.)

 

They take the closest curb spot, but it’s still a hike to the building. He thinks he should comment on Boston winters with a baby 80 feet from the entrance.

 

“Does this come with a better parking space?” He asks half way through the football field between his truck and the building.

 

“Killian, it’s barely twenty feet, don’t be an ass already.”

 

“I’m not.” He huffs, reaching for her hand because he feels the distance building with each step they take toward separate futures.

 

“You are,” she reiterates, but intertwines their fingers anyhow. “And the baby is due in February. There’s hardly any winter left.” Somehow he believed he had only thought it, but she gives him an angled glare before reaching for the buzzer.

 

Once inside, it’s flight of stairs to the second floor where the elevator is located and he’s a bit concerned about her being alone with a car seat and groceries. Apparently ground level isn’t an option, but in his opinion, this apartment shouldn’t be either.

 

“One flight. Will you stop, or go wait in the car?”

 

“I didn’t say anything?”

 

“Your eyes are saying it all.”

 

“Sorry,” he sighs. “I’ll keep my mind shut as well as my mouth from here on out.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

The door to the apartment is marked in fairytale wallpaper and she smiles, before mentioning Ellie loving it. He hates the idea of Ellie loving anything about this. He doesn’t need to be double-teamed by the two of them.

 

The door swings open and a kind, bright eyed woman with lighter blonde hair like Elsa’s greets them with such a sincere smile, and sweetness in her eyes when she sees Emma.

 

“It’s great to see you again, and even better to meet your very handsome boyfriend.” Emma’s smile is genuine until she meets Killian’s eyes, and raises her eyebrows. He thinks he can hear her saying ‘See’ telepathically.

 

Okay, so perhaps she has mentioned him before. He may have overreacted yesterday, but now he believes she’s falling for him, and they’re miles away from yesterday.

 

(Just as this apartment is miles away from his.)

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well…”

 

“Ingrid.” The woman answers with a lighthearted chuckle. “I’m sorry, I’m Ingrid Fisher.”

 

“Nice to meet you Ingrid.” Killian corrects “Killian Jones.”

 

“Right, of Jolly Roger Inc. My firm knows much about you. We like to keep tabs on up and coming tycoons in the city. I believe my colleague, Helga, actually got you into the place you’ve been residing now?”

 

“Ah, yes. That’s correct. She’s really lovely, I actually left her a message last night.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes, I’m looking…” Emma releases his hand, walking slightly behind Ingrid to catch his line of sight and she does not look pleased at all. And he hasn’t mentioned it, partly because nothing’s been set in motion, but perhaps a little to show her what it feels like to have no idea what the person you’re with is up to. “To put my place on the market, move into a house. Not quite as large as the one I sold before, but large enough to…”

 

“Expand your family. I’d imagine with the baby on its way and your niece in a two bedroom, you’d need a bit more space,” And now she’s just illuminating the room in this blinding smile, like staring at snow reflecting the sun. She’s very nice, just as nice as his previous realtor was, but she seems that much more family orientated.

 

He figures Emma must trust her, too. She’s gone as far to mention him, his niece and their unborn child while looking for this place.

 

“Too right,” he nods, doing his best to avoid the glare coming from Emma now.

 

“Then…” Ingrid turns to find Emma scowling, although she does her best to fix her frown once spotted by the realtor. “Emma, honey, are you still wishing to sign the lease?”

 

“Yes,” she answers without pause. “For a year. I just wanted to give my _boyfriend_ here a chance to see what it looks like before I do so.”

 

“Of course,” Ingrid replies, confusion evident in her tone. “Well, I’ll make a call to Helga, see if she received your message and leave you two to look around. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

 

“Thanks,” they say in unison. Ingrid shakes her head with a chuckle like it’s a sign of true love, when it’s only a representation of how eager they both are to argue about it all over again. The second the door closes behind the realtor, the gloves are off and Emma’s charging toward him with fury in her eyes.

 

“What? Did you want to tell me you’re selling your place to get a house?”

 

“Like you told me you were signing the lease here?”

 

“That’s not the same, Killian.”

 

“Why’s that, because you did it? Of course. You can do what you want, and I can just accept it.”

 

“I don’t really care if you accept it or not. I think selling an apartment and uprooting your five-year-old is different than moving to a place a few blocks over and a few blocks closer to everything I need.” And she pauses, wincing at her own thoughts before letting out an exasperated sigh and spelling it out for him. “You. Everything I need is you, and Ellie and I’m moving closer, where it’s safer and I thought it was a compromise, but there are no houses in this area that you’re willing to move into, I know it.”

 

She’s struggling to let him know, and he can see it through her eyes, through the way she can’t hold them open before speaking her thoughts aloud. She’s fighting two battles right now, and one of them is with an invisible opponent. He can’t help her win if he doesn’t know who she’s up against.

 

“You’re right, there aren’t. It will still be in Ellie’s zoning for school. I’ll find something, I thought we could look together despite how much you don’t want to live together. I thought if we found something we both liked, you’d move in sometime in the future.”

 

"But you didn’t mention it.”

 

“I made the decision last night after getting Ellie down for bed,” he shrugs because he thinks her anger is misguided. He thinks he should be a little angry himself still and he chose not to be for the sake of the happiness he’s trying to get them back to.

 

“So you called a realtor last night instead of calling me.”

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you last night.”

 

“Not sorry about keeping this secret?”

 

“It’s been less than 24 hours, Emma. That’s hardly a secret. You kept one for months, so perhaps you should…”

 

“Should what? Are you trying to get even with me for not telling you about this apartment, or about Scarlet? Because when you tell someone you forgive them, you should probably fucking mean it.”

 

And they’re right back in Hell again, when her voice cracks, and his eyes burn at the sight of hers flooding with tears. He could do what she does, blame the hormones, make it sound like she’s not nearly as upset as she is, but he knows it’s bullshit, every time she says it, it’s false.

 

These are the times he thinks maybe letting it go would be easier for her, maybe she does do better alone, because alone he’s not sure she cries without the arguing, without the unresolved issues and unsettled situations.

 

“I’m working on it. It doesn’t fade away overnight. It still sits in the back of my mind and I wonder what else you’re lying about. And then you’re using that money, the money that fueled your decision to lie to me, to afford a place that separates me further from you. Can’t you see it’s a metaphorical wedge between us being used as a physical wedge between us?”

 

“It wasn’t about the money, Killian,” she groans like she’s denied it enough times and he should just believe her.

 

“Forgive me for finding that hard to believe,” he motions to their surroundings, because this apartment is quite beautiful for the area. The floors may be laminate, but that’s just a softer drop for a child learning to walk. The kitchen is three times the size of that awful one she’s forced to deal with at her current residence. The lighting is amazing, it’s so bright and airy in the room where they’re standing, despite how absolutely chilling he feels thinking about the state of their relationship.

 

“I’m sorry I want a place even a third as nice as yours to convince you it’s okay to let Ellie sleep over, or to not have to hear your mouth over the stupidest of things. Maybe I’m just tired of watching you look at me with pity.”

 

“I’ve never pitied you,” he argues, louder than he should, but something about the word ‘pity’ makes him feel like breaking things and burning his past life alive. He knows about pity, and he will never possess an ounce. “I don’t need to feel guilty about worrying for you, Emma.”

 

“Don’t confuse worry with control.” She knows how it drives him crazy to be accused of that, but she uses it in almost every argument.

 

“I’ve never tried to control anyone,” his tone now leveled, lower, but bordering on intimidating and it doesn’t feel right either. Nothing about fighting with the woman he loves ever feels right, but it’s all they seem to do anymore. “I want you to be happy, evidently, I can’t do that for you.  It’s a very lovely place Emma, I’m sure you’ll be happy here.”

 

“What the hell does that mean?”

 

“Sign the damn lease and I’ll take you home,” he has to drop his gaze from hers, because she hasn’t bothered to wipe away a single tear and he feels his heart ripping apart at the sight. She’s watching him like she’s waiting for him to abandon her and his heart is just fucking torn at the sight. He’s not quitting. It’s not over, but if her happiness is getting everything she wants and only thinking about what feels best to herself, who is he to scream and shout about it?

 

Maybe he’s defeated, but he’s not quitting. So why won’t his voice work to tell her that?

 

“Okay, are we all set? How’d the beau love the place?” The door opens with the sound spilling out before they even get a glimpse of Ingrid. He keeps his eyes to the floor, noticing how there’s a bit of a slope to the kitchen. He catches Emma’s elbow bending in his peripheral, assumes she’s dabbing quickly at her cheeks as she sniffles, repeatedly.

 

“Uhm, actually, can we have a day or so? With this whole idea of Killian getting a house, I just want to make sure a year isn’t too long to be apart.” His eyes shoot up to meet hers, but now she’s the one avoiding his gaze. Ingrid watches them both with something too invested for having just met him moments ago.

 

“Oh, of course. I think that’s a really great idea Emma. You’re becoming a family, and you should be together,” she moves closer, taking Emma’s hands in her own, and where he thinks her closed-off tendencies will flare up, Emma proves him wrong by gripping the woman’s hands tighter in her own and thanking her for understanding.

 

“We’ll give you a call, either to look for a new place, or to sign the lease on this one. Thanks again,” Emma lends Ingrid a gentle smile before releasing her hands and stepping back to reach for his. It shocks him a bit, that she’d even want to touch him after that fight, but she does, and he loves her that much more for it. She squeezes his hand to remind him of his manners.

 

“Yes, thank you so very much,” he nods before tugging Emma toward the door.

 

“You’re more than welcome. Take it easy, both of you.”

 

The minute they’re outside his lips are on hers, because she bloody well did it again, she made him think maybe he does matter, maybe she does love him.

 

But she presses him away a second later and glares at him like it’s the stupidest thought in the world to believe she could ever love him after today. The migraine to follow is almost instant, like he’s suffering from whiplash of the mind. Heaven and Hell constantly colliding, of course there’s going to be a fallout.

 

“You are such an asshole and I halfway hate you right now. Are we clear?” she lashes him with words, but her palm is still resting on his chest, absently rubbing and soothing the portion above his heart. “And you don’t get to ‘give’ me my way like I’m some selfish, spoiled brat. If I want to live here, if I want to finally have something of my own, I’m not being selfish.”

 

“No, you’re not,” he agrees because he can recognize these as rules to move forward with, but she is fighting to move forward with him, because she wants to move forward together. “If you want this place Emma, it’s yours. I just…”

 

“Shut up,” she hisses. “I’m so furious with you, because I just want to do everything right and you’re making me feel like I’m only trying to do this for me. Do you know how often I consider you and Ellie in a day?” Afraid to speak again, he shakes his head and waits. “I can’t even count that high, that’s how often. You’re not just getting your way because you threw a fit in there, okay. I just… I just want to take a minute and think about it. And if I do want this place, I’m not setting up another time for you to actually view it, because now you don’t know how much closet space I have, or how deep the kitchen sink is and that’s your own fault. You did that.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Shut up,” she repeats with more enthusiasm. “Oh, and another thing, it’s not about the damn money. And it really, really feels shitty when you resort to telling me otherwise. That’s exactly why I didn’t want to tell you how much. I don’t want to be people who fight over money, ever. It’s an ugly thing to do, and I can’t do that with you. If you haven’t forgiven me yet, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Killian, I really am, but I can’t take it back. Either we move forward or we break up but I can’t take it back.”

 

He stares at her and she furrows her eyebrows like he was supposed to speak up ages ago.

 

“Let’s move forward.”

 

-/-

 

The car ride is quiet for the most part. He keeps his eyes focused on the road, but he keeps a hand on her thigh at all times. She loves the way it feels on her bare knee when her dress rides up from her position in the passenger seat. She knows he cares, and he’s just scared that she cares more about money, more about independence than him. She’s scared he believes that.

 

But she’s also angry he could ever possibly think that poorly of her. What kind of father would he be allowing his kid near her if he thinks that poorly of her? She’s not the company she’s been known to keep. She’s not the guys she’s locked up, or the people from her past. She’s not Neal and she’s not Lily.

 

She’s Emma and for the first time in forever, she’s letting herself fall in love, and he’s too stupid to understand it, but she’s too new at this to spell it out for him.

 

“I am sorry, Emma.” He sighs as he pulls up to the curb before her building. He turns of the engine, removes his seatbelt and turns to meet her eyes. “I hate that I’ve hurt you again.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry too.” She bends, despite the anger she felt subsiding on the ride here, she can only find her love for him now, and her hope that they do move past this and they both get the happiness she wants so badly out of it.”

 

“Do you want me to walk you up?”

 

“You don’t have to, unless you’re planning on staying a while?”

 

He’s out of the car in a flash, rushing around to open her door before she even manages to get herself completely out of the seatbelt.

 

She lets him kiss her now. He keeps her pressed into the passenger’s seat, hands gripped in her hair as he pulls her to him. She spreads her legs to let him settle between them, let his body press against hers in that familiar way that makes her think they’ve really got something worth fighting for here. At first it’s just his lips molding against hers, and that’s enough, that’s more than enough to take away the bitter taste of an argument, but he guides hers to part, sweeping his tongue into her mouth to meet hers. Despite the urge, she’s not going to French kiss in a parked car in front of the perverts residing in her neighborhood, so she pulls away slowly, sealing her lips together to finish the kiss before resting her forehead against his.

 

“Easy Tiger, I invited you upstairs for a reason.”

 

And they head up rather quickly after that.

 

(Hormones)

 

It’s almost a race to her front door, but they manage to get there at a slow enough pace to notice the door hanging slightly off the first hinge, and cracked open. Not even The Flash could catch her heart with how quickly it drops to the floor.

 

And boy does it shatter when it gets there.

 

“Wait here,” he whispers, lightly guiding her back with a hand on her stomach; a silent reminder that she’s pregnant now. But her fierce need to strangle whoever did this does not seem to subside in the slightest.

 

She counts to ten, maybe, before rushing in behind him. The view on the inside is only a million or so times worse. There’s broken glass, the small sofa is flipped against the back wall, the TV she bought but barely uses is missing. There’s cabinet doors in the kitchen practically ripped off the hinges, and her room door is wide open, Killian already making his way inside.

 

“Emma!” he shouts and she knows the worst has happened. She didn’t want to put a payoff this big in a bank account. She doesn’t want anyone tracking the money coming in, because it’s been almost 9 years and she still can’t shake the fact that she got into bed with a crook.

 

She got into a lease with another one.

 

She had it stuffed inside the hole she cut at the bottom of her mattress and now she’s staring at her mattress propped against her bedroom window, the tiny hole ripped another six or so inches deep.

 

“Shit.”

 

 

 


	11. Meltdown Intercepted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, here’s this chapter. The next one will be happier. Thank you for sticking through it!  
> Thank you to my Beta, RavenclawPianist. Thanks for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks!

 

 

**Meltdown Intercepted**

 

“Shit.”

 

“Please tell me you have a lofty bank account somewhere,” Killian’s voice is miles away and she can’t really think about what he’s saying and keep from screaming her head off at the same time.

 

“Shit. Shit, goddamn, fuck, are you kidding me?” she rushes to the mattress, thrusting a careless hand through the hole and digging around until she finds something. And it’s a damn cruel world, because she finds something alright. She tugs out a bleeding fist gripping a brown paper bag only to rip it to shreds when she realizes it is empty.

 

What kind of satanic asshole does that? This isn't theft- it's spiteful betrayal.

 

“Stay here, let me check the other room and call the police.”

 

“No,” she levels her voice to keep from sounding hysterical. “Lily did this, and I don’t want anything on record when her body washes up.”

 

“Lily? The lass I met just yesterday?”  


“She’s not a _lass,_ she’s a fucking demon. She’s been coming in and out of my life for years doing shit like this, but it was different before. She wasn’t actually stealing from me.” She’s done everything else though, so why wouldn’t she steal from her?

 

When they first met she lied about being an orphan to sound cool but actually had a family who loved her and trusted her. When they were fifteen, she found out where Emma was staying, broke into the garage and managed to lie, steal and get her kicked out all in the same half hour. When they were sixteen, Emma was doing her best to get by on her own when Lily shows up, offering her a place to stay because Lily felt ‘responsible’ Emma was sleeping on park benches. The place was raided the very next day and Emma was _almost_ caught in some abandoned warehouse with enough stolen shit to get her trialed as an adult. Then of course, she was nineteen and still pretty wrecked from her experience in jail, giving up her child and just having the worst life ever, and Lily finds a way to break into her apartment while she was out and give Emma’s super a reason to destroy her lease. It took her three months to find a new place and stop sleeping in her car again. She continues to forgive her, because she doesn’t have anything or anyone left from her childhood. Maybe that’s for the best.

 

“Emma, you’re sure?”

 

“Yes,” she’s never been more sure. “I’m sure she heard you yesterday,” she groans, kicking the overthrown mattress and setting off to pace the small quarters of her room.

 

“You’re saying this is my fault, then?”

 

“No, what? Killian, it’s her fault. If a robber holds up a bank, it’s the robber’s fault, he’s the crook. Lily is the crook,” Emma sets on a tangent as the gears of her mind turn. “I take down crooks. Is she stupid? Does she think I won’t find her? She knows I find everyone.”

 

“Love, your hand is bleeding quite a bit…” Killian tries to distract her, but her train of thought is moving a mile a minute.

 

“And why the hell did she have to wreck the place when she knew exactly where the money was? What the hell is her deal, she just comes in and takes to ripping cabinet doors off the hinges, smashing glass everywhere? Is she mad? I’ll show her mad, I’ve been known to be angry before but with a baby in the mix, I’m bound to burn the witch alive.”

 

“Please Swan, let me take a look at your hand,” he steps into her stride, almost knocking into her as he tries to grab her wrist.

 

“No!” she snatches it out of his reach. “Listen here, I don’t want you taking care of me.” He pulls away from her like she burned him, actually flinches. She wants to elaborate, but she gets caught up watching the emotions flash across his face like slides of her fifth foster mother’s trip to Florence. Only, there’s no joy, no excitement or discovery of real pizza on his face. It’s a cold, dark glimpse of dejection.

 

“You…you don’t just mean your hand, do you?”

 

“No,” she answers gently, because she isn’t angry with him, she just needs to set the boundaries now before he starts conceptualizing monogrammed bath towels and clearing out even more space in his closet for her things. “I mean everything. I mean, and I say this because I want us to work, Killian, I mean we can’t live together and you can’t just take care of me.”

 

He studies her for longer than she feels comfortable sitting under such intense scrutiny. His eyes lose focus from staring at her so long and so hard, and then he just shuts them, clenching his jaw and tensing up his shoulders. He emanates frustration, and she thinks for a moment he’s angrier about this, than she is about what has just happened to her.

 

“I don’t want to argue. I really don’t want to fight anymore,” she adds, like that ever helps them stop fighting. He still hasn’t opened his eyes or relaxed a single muscle in his body. “Baby?” she attempts, because he’s shown her his weakness and she’s not above exploiting it for the sake of staying on the same side.

 

“How much money do you have to your name?” It comes out quickly, following a discouraged exhale.

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me, how much money do you have to your name, Emma?”

 

“Don’t ask me about money, Killian.”

 

“Then don’t ask me not to take care of you,” he replies without missing a beat. His eyes focus in on hers like he’s battling in more than one way of communicating, like he can use some Jedi mind trick on her and get her to agree telepathically.

 

It works.

 

“I have the 3600 for the deposit I was going to give today on the new place. It’s in money orders, but I could cash them back to myself. I have… probably 400 dollars in my bank account, another 200 emergency cash in the false-bottom trunk in the Bug. I have enough to survive.”

 

“And where are you going to stay, Emma?” he continues to interrogate, and it takes a lot to remind herself he’s only asking because he cares, not to make her feel small, but she really can’t help but feel small.

 

“I’ll figure it out,” she shrugs, fighting the quiver of her bottom lip or the need to stand her ground, to push back and tell him she doesn’t need anyone to worry about her.

 

The bittersweet reality of never having anyone to worry about you is never having anyone to disappoint. The wide-eyed look of disbelief in his thoughtful, deep blue eyes is smothering her with guilt.

 

“Please do not ask me to watch you struggle. Please,” he pleads with such a fragile voice her heart breaks.

 

“I won’t struggle,” she whispers in reply. He scans her face looking for the lie. He thinks he knows how to tell when she’s lying now, so she elaborates. “Mary Margaret and David have a guest room; I’ll call her, I’ll ask if I can stay there. I won’t…I won’t struggle.” The real struggle would be swallowing her pride and asking for help. When things like this fall apart, when things get shitty, Emma gets to isolating herself, and she’s standing here vowing to do the opposite.

 

It’s embarrassing enough that he gets to see what a shit storm her life can be, she didn’t really want to tell Mary Margaret and David about it, too.

 

“You should wash your hand. If you want, of course. It’s your hand after all, your decision.”

 

“Don’t be like this.”

 

“You more than likely scraped it on a spring, those could be rusted,” he whispers with furrowed brows. “I’m gonna walk down to my truck, I need to make a couple phone calls.”

 

“Phone calls? Now? To who?”

 

“If you don’t want me to take care of you, if you’d rather stay with your friends, that’s fine. I… I just feel so fucking helpless right now and I want to do something,” he exhales something shaky and insecure. “I just want to give you the world, but if you don’t want it, please just let me take care of this apartment, let me handle getting your things moved out and in a storage unit before the day’s over. Please, let me do something of importance to aid you.”

 

“You are important, Killian.”

 

“And I don’t really need you to be here to get that achieved,” he continues, ignoring her and taking his most clumsy step back to date when she moves closer to touch him. He’s acting like she just broke up with him, and she wonders why in the Hell there is no going back after some form of rejection in a relationship. Why can’t people still be the same just because they say no to something? Why don’t couples stay together after a turned-down proposal? Why does it always have to be all or nothing?

 

“It’s my apartment?”

 

“True, for another three days, right? And you’re god-awful at cleaning. I don’t know what good it would be for the baby to have you around this mess thinking of all the ways to murder someone. I need a favor anyhow, maybe it will help with your constant need to not owe me anything.”

 

“Why are you acting like this?”

 

“Can you please take my car and pick up Ellie? She misses the hell out of you anyway.” If calling him a pet name is his weakness, bringing up Ellie is hers. “I can… I can drive your car to your friends’ home. I’ll bring you your clothes and whatever else you need there, switch cars and drive Ellie home.”

 

“Killian, I want to stay with you tonight. I want you to be next to me.”

 

“Oh,” he nods like he could care less and god she’s trying so hard not to argue, it aches in her damn teeth, but he’s being so passive aggressive, and he never says what he means. “It’s your choice of course. If you change your mind just let me know.”

 

“I’m not going to change my mind. I want to be with you tonight, and after,” she attempts a smile, but it just turns to tears. This whole thing is so overwhelming, and she’s hungry as hell, the last thing she ate was a bear claw, and some stupid, delicious fake milk. She just wants to be okay with him, everything around her is literal ruin and he’s giving her such a hard time, and she has a burning stinging sensation on the back of her hand, and she’s probably had to pee since she walked inside so now she’s crying.

 

“Emma?” he sighs and wraps his arms around her like these tears aren’t partially his fault.

 

(More than partially if you blame the pregnancy hormones coming from the kid he put in her.) (And she will continue to blame the hormones until this kid is out of diapers.)

 

“Don’t ‘Emma’ me. Why are you acting like this?”

 

“I just told you, I don’t know what the hell to do,” he confesses in a burst, and she can feel his heart beating violently against her jaw where it’s settled in this contradicting embrace. His breath comes out in these quaking currents, heavy enough to pick up the strands of her hair. “I just want to take care of you.”

 

“And I just want to be strong on my own.”

 

“You’re not weak just because someone loves you.”

 

He still smells as wonderful as this morning, all spice and warmth, even in the summer the scent makes her feel like hot cocoa near the fire and she somehow doesn’t register the words he’s just said soon enough, too caught up with the smell of him.

 

And then it kicks in.

 

It was indirect as hell, but the flip of her stomach doesn’t give a damn because the word is still there, from him to her.

 

She calms herself long enough to pull away slowly, nothing too telling of the panic within. It’s probably noticeable when she clears her throat and starts complaining about the stinging of her cut hand.

 

“I should wash this. You’ll come back up when you made your calls?”

 

He studies her again, with thinning eyes, and she wants to look away but then he’ll know, and hate her for it. She’s been trying to show him she feels the same in between arguments and disasters but he can’t seem to latch onto the idea, and her just running away right now is only going to make it less believable for him.

 

“Yeah,” he breaks, dipping his head and watching her feet.

 

“Okay.”

 

-/-

 

Maybe he spends longer downstairs than he needs to. Maybe the first ten minutes are used bracing his forehead to the steering wheel and taking the deepest breaths he can muster to keep from screaming out.

 

She could have been inside.

 

And he knows he suffers from the same anxiety Ellie does and jumps to the worst possible scenario the minute his imaginative mind gets sight of something with the potential to devastate.

 

But she could have been inside. He could have been walking up to her door alone, he could have found her hurt, or…

 

And it’s not that farfetched when he listens to how fearless and fiery she is about hunting this woman down. It’s evident that if it were Lily, she wasn’t alone. It looks like a gang of ruffians had their go at some abandoned apartment for fun, not the apartment of the pregnant woman he loves.

 

And the pregnancy doesn’t sooth her sparking spirit. She’s ready to ignite war at any moment. He knows if she were there, if they were that desperate to not wait until she were gone, she wouldn’t have let them get away with it quietly. His stomach revolts at the thought.

 

And now the need to keep her close is this all-consuming urge like his very hands won’t stop shaking unless she’s holding them. He knows he can’t go on like this, he can’t just lock the people he loves away to keep them safe, especially Emma Swan. She can’t be contained by any cage, and she’s all the more flawless when she’s free anyhow.

 

But the embellished crime scene, complete with police tape and body bags, just won’t leave his mind’s eye.

 

In hindsight, that’s probably why he told her he loved her, more or less. He told her she’s loved, and he was the one who said it. Like an idiot, he said it. And like Emma, she panicked.

 

So he spends extra time in his car.

 

-/-

 

An hour passes and the troupes have been rallied but Emma has yet to leave.

Ruby brought all the cleaning supplies she could find, because Emma and Lily were never home to make messes apparently, why would they have the things needed to clean them up?

 

Robin brings the moving truck and Smee brings the pizza, along with the keys to the storage unit he reserved just a block or two from Killian’s apartment. John and Jefferson from mechanics and Peter, the misguided intern, show up as well to help get the move rolling. He wants to ask who is actually running the business, but he took a week off himself to spend extra time with Emma and Ellie before this Royal Navy contract takes away another 40% of his time.

 

Ruby has been helping Emma sort through the clothes she needs to take to her friends’ house and the rest that can go in storage until she finds a permanent place to stay. He hasn’t exactly made a habit of avoiding Emma, but since his walk to the car, he’s tried to keep all conversation to the bare minimum.

 

Only now it’s been just another hour added to the time since she last ate and she was complaining from hunger from the last time marker, and the one before that. He wants her out of here. He wants her to relax, spend some time with Ellie and not be in the midst of this chaotic reminder that bad things happen to good people and everything she wanted she can no longer give herself.

 

(He could give it to her, but she’s entirely against him doing much of anything for her.)

 

“Love?” he taps on the doorframe to her bedroom after gathering the courage to face her again. “Perhaps you should be off?”

 

“Yeah?” she looks around her room, but not to his face. The clothing that she had sprawled out when he last checked on her have been neatly rolled and folded up to fit in her two suitcases. “Thanks Ruby, you helped me too much, and I feel guilty I can’t return the favor.”

 

Ruby’s eyes flickered across Emma’s face before sobering and focusing on the suitcases they’ve packed. “It really wasn’t anything to consider a favor. If you want to get even, you could give Ellie Bean a few quick kisses for me.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Ruby lifts from her knees to leave the two of them alone, dusting off her jeans and striding past Killian. He stops her with an outstretched arm, handing her fifty dollars and motions to his own grumbling gut. She smiles and nods before moving out of the room all the quicker.

 

“I’ll walk you to my truck.”

 

“Killian, I can’t just leave. I have so much to do,” she lifts herself from the floor with a bit less ease than Ruby did, and he doesn’t miss the teeter in her stance.

 

“Let me do it all. I have a crew of people ready to work, I don’t need you here, too.”  


“It’s my apartment, all these people are here and I have no idea how to thank them. I’m just supposed to abuse your employees?”

 

“They’re not here as employees, they’re here as friends. Family even if you count Ruby and Robin.”

 

“Speaking of Ruby and Robin, and family, I’ve caught them both staring at my stomach, Killian. We can’t keep it a secret for much longer.”

 

“I know, I intend on mentioning it after you’re off to retrieve Ellie and get some form of nourishment in your body. Right now, this is my priority.”

 

“I don’t want to tell anyone if we haven’t told Ellie. I don’t want her to find out from Roland because Robin rightfully assumes we’re honest with her when we haven’t been.”

 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Ellie. He just doesn’t have the same expectations as Emma. She thinks Ellie will be her usual warm and bubbly self, but he knows there is going to be a bit of fallout. It’s just been the two of them this whole time, and somehow Emma has only enhanced that for Ellie, but he knows there’s a difference in having a very beautiful female to admire and having a very tiny baby to come in and change their whole dynamic.

 

Ellie is his priority, he lives for her, and he will never let anything change that. He will never lessen the amount of love and attention he gives to her, but there’s a chance she won’t see it that way, and the idea of her voicing that is what scares him most. If there’s one thing that can bring him to a break, it’s breaking Ellie’s heart.

 

“I thought we discussed telling her when we knew the sex of the baby.”

 

“I thought I wouldn’t show as soon as I am. Yet here I am, popping seams.”

 

“You’re not popping seams, Emma. You’re beautiful and just barely starting to show.”

 

“I want her to know,” he swallows the bitter taste of fear and manages a soft nod, bowing his head to agree, even if his heart tells him not to.

 

“Okay. We’ll tell her next time the three of us get a quiet moment together. Tonight, if I’m not home too late.”

 

“Speaking of home…my second home has been the office August and I have been renting. Now that he’s leaving and I’m in no condition to bust perps, I let the lease go. We need to be out by Friday. I really don’t want to ask you for anymore, but if you already have the truck and storage ca—”

 

“Of course. Are the keys on the ring with your car and apartment?” She nods, pulling her keys from her pocket and handing them to him.

 

“The one with mint nail polish painted on it,” her voice is soft, and her eyes glossy again. The rage from before has died down, and she’s just left with the hurt from being betrayed yet again in her life. He says a silent prayer she still finds the will to trust people.

 

“We’ll take care of that when we’re done here.”

 

“Thank you, Baby,” she whimpers, quickly burying her face in his chest, her arms clinging to his waist like he’s the last sturdy place in the eye of a storm. A few tears moisten his shirt and he knows he should feel guilty taking any sort of joy in her predicament, but it’s brought her to his arms and she’s actually asking that he do something for her, he doesn’t have to beg and fight to get the chance to take care of her.

 

“For you, anything.”

 

-/-

 

She gets to Ellie’s school in record time. Thankfully so, she’s starving and can already taste Granny’s grilled cheese and onion rings. It’s naptime still, and Emma can feel her heart turning to warm, mushy matter when she catches sight of Ellie sleeping on her cot, her Rapunzel blanket barely covering her body, and her frog shaped pillow beneath her sweet, sweaty little cheek.

 

“Emma, it’s great to see you,” Miss Nova whispers as she sits at a spare table toward the back of the classroom. It takes only a second for her to grab Ellie’s daily sheet and whatever artwork they’re sending home that day.

 

She’s picked Ellie up enough to know that they take sheets home Fridays, get daily sheets well, daily. She made the conscious decision to keep Ellie home with her the next two days the minute she crouched beside the sleeping angel and felt reality right itself back to how it should be.

 

No amount of money is worth missing out on the precious way Ellie’s eyes flutter open, with her arms straining to stretch and a deep yawn coming from such a tiny body.

 

“Emma,” Ellie sighs sweetly, gazing up at her affectionately through sleepy eyes. “Missed you,” she grumbles out, smacking her tongue around her dry mouth.

 

“I missed you more, Bug.” And the term flies from her mouth without thinking about it, and maybe it’s just a reflex from constantly hearing Killian refer to her as Love Bug, or maybe it’s her subconscious telling her that everyone else has a nickname for Ellie, and she needs one too. Ellie doesn’t seem to affected by it, yawning again and rolling over to scratch at her own back. “Do you have to go potty?”

 

“Yep,” she answers in this scratchy, sleepy little voice and it’s only at the fear of making her pee her pants, Emma refrains from attacking her with all the love bubbling in her chest.

 

“Okay, go pee. I’m gonna roll up your bedding,” Ellie nods, getting up slowly from her cot. She stops to give Emma a hug and kiss anyhow, because that’s just how Ellie wakes up on her best days.

 

Miss Nova questions her when Emma’s presses the bedding into Ellie’s Jake and the Neverland Pirates themed backpack. “Is Ellie going to be out the next two days?”

 

“Yeah, Killian took time off this week and I think we’re gonna try to get some QT in with her the next few days. There wasn’t anything huge going on was there?”

 

“No, not at all,” Miss Nova smiles, handing her the papers. According to the daily sheet, Ellie had only eaten some of the lunch Killian packed her, and has been asleep since 12. It’s a quarter to two, so Emma can’t imagine she’ll turn up the least bit grumpy over fifteen minutes. “Oh, I do have to remind the parents that we’re having our pre-k graduation August 7th.”

 

Emma tries to ignore the furious flutter in her chest at the ‘parents’ term. She shouldn’t think anything of it. She’s more than likely just the messenger being relayed a message to tell Killian.

 

“Thank you.” She beams at the teacher as Ellie comes trudging out of the bathroom with her dress tucked into the back of her undies, completely unaware as she moves to wash her hands at the tiny, lowered sink.

 

Emma moves on autopilot to untuck the fabric and smooth it down. And she doesn’t stop there, completely maternal and solely focused on the brightest light in her world at the moment. She’s resetting Ellie’s ponytail and pulling paper towel from the dispenser to help her dry her hands.

 

“You ready, kid?”

 

“Mmhm. I’m hungry,” Ellie turns to face Emma, pressing her palms to the protruding belly and squinting her eyes a bit but not making a show. She just reaches higher, motioning to be picked up.

 

She knows what Whale said, what Killian’s been saying, but it’s Ellie, and she’s had such an awful day, how can she not lift her ball of light into her arms and hold on tight until the darkness of the day fades away.

 

She bends with her knees.

 

“Now you’re speaking my language, let’s go get Granny’s.”

 

-/-

 

“So...” Ruby begins, taking a break from packing Emma’s kitchen cabinets. There’s really not much in there and it’s taken her about forty-five minutes to pretend to pack the mugs, but he’s not complaining over free labor. “Are we all going to ignore the baby bump?”

 

“Subtle,” Jefferson winks at Ruby before directing his eyes toward Killian. He feels his cheeks flush and he knows Emma said she didn’t want to tell anyone, but she’s not here to come up with a lie, and in this partnership she’s definitely the better storyteller.

 

“We wanted to tell Ellie first,” he explains, keeping his focus on the repairing the hinges of the front door.

 

“She’s easily three months, mate. You haven’t told Eloise?” Robin frowns like he’s disappointed, but Killian doesn’t need the disappointment, he needs the understanding and support.

 

“We’re thirteen weeks.”

 

“Men always say ‘we,’” Ruby huffs, earning a chuckle from Smee.

 

“Fine. She’s thirteen weeks, we actually had our appointment this morning. Now you know, and you don’t speak a damn word to anyone outside of this apartment until I say so, saavy?”

  
“Aye.” John, Jefferson, Peter and Smee agree. Ruby stares at him like she’s not afraid and Robin watches him with regard.

 

“Is that why you made her leave?” Ruby continues to speak on a subject he’s pretty sure he just shut the door on. “Because she could have done the light-lifting. She probably already feels like she has no control over the things in her life…unless you planned to get pregnant a month into dating?”

 

“No we didn’t…what did you say about control?”

 

“Having your body decide it’s going to change your whole life overnight sorta makes a girl feel powerless, I’d imagine. Then there’s this break-in. She probably feels violated, helpless and a complete lack of control over the direction her life’s going in.” Ruby educates him on the same thing Emma’s been trying to explain for weeks. He never took the time to hear it because he just wants her to be happy about things, but he can’t force happiness where there’s turmoil. “Oh, and here’s another thought, Boss-man. I heard through the grapevine the moms at Ellie’s ballet class are assholes to Emma. The world you’re pushing her into? Not so rosy.”

 

He can always count on Ruby to keep him up to date on the daily female struggle. He’s been schooled a number of times on potentially sexist behavior or politically incorrect terms. She keeps him current on how to be a good role model for Ellie.

 

“I’ll talk to her when I get home tonight,” he promises, satisfying Ruby enough to shut her up.

 

-/-

 

She manages to make a phone call after Granny’s, when they get back to the apartment and Ellie is taking her shower like a big girl and Emma has a second to herself. She calls Mary Margaret and mutters through the details of the day, finishing with the request to stay at their place a few nights a week to not impose too much on her relationship with Killian.

 

Of course Mary Margaret can’t understand why on Earth Emma can’t commit. In Emma’s mind and heart, she’s committed. It’s that commitment she’s trying to protect, so she just answers with something softly expressed. _‘I don’t want to put added strain on us.’_

It’s enough to get her friend off the phone just in time for Ellie to come out of the shower with her wet hair dripping on the hardwood as she brings the wet towel to Emma with a brush in her other hand. It’s wordless now, the requests she makes to have Emma braid her hair or pick her up. They’re at that level of comfort where Ellie just assumes she will be more than willing.

 

It’s really not off-putting at all. If anything, it’s comforting. She plans on being in Ellie’s life until her last breath, so to be at this point now, she has no doubts Ellie thinks the same way.

 

“Emma?” Ellie begins, with a long pause as her tiny hand continues to gather the material of Emma’s dress in her fist and release it. She’s just like Killian in the sense that they have to be touching her at all moments.

 

“Yeah, Bug?”

 

“How come you stay away from home for some days? Why are you not always at my house?”

 

“Well, I have my own house, you know that.”

 

“But why? Why you can’t just only have one house, my house?”

 

“Did your Uncle set you up to ask me this?”

 

“No,” Ellie answers with a tone like she’s in a mood now. A bit more persnickety than she should be, since everything has been going her way since Emma picked her up.

 

“What’s the problem?”

 

“I miss you so much when you’re not here,” Ellie explains with a huff. “We both miss your pretty face.”

 

“And I miss you too,” Emma replies as honestly as she can without taking away the fact that she is only five and this conversation is really between Killian and herself, not Ellie. “But… doesn’t it feel good when you miss someone and you finally see them? It’s sometimes a good thing to miss someone.”

 

“No it’s not,” Ellie disagrees softly. “Sometimes you never see them again, Emma and then you miss them ‘til it starts to make you really sad.” No matter how bright and cheerful Ellie can be, she’s still a kid who lost so much and it creeps through the cracks in her porcelain the same way Emma’s pain creeps through the chinks in her iron. She never wants Ellie to be turned to iron, she loves her just the way she is, porcelain and fragile, but so precious and pure.

 

“But you always see me again.”

 

“I know. I just wanna see you always.” Somehow, Emma has managed to finish the braid while Ellie scolded her for being so far away. Now she can pull Ellie to the side and look at her eye-to-eye.

 

“Maybe someday soon. Right now, it’s just better to only see each other most of the time. I promise.”

 

“Fine,” Ellie folds, with a pout and a grumble.

 

And she thinks that’s the end of it truly, she thinks that the 21 questions they’re playing tonight end with Ellie being less than happy about Emma’s final answer on moving in. She’s still not convinced Killian didn’t indirectly influence that, but she knows Ellie thinks up her own thoughts. She is her own person, as little of a person as she may be.

 

So when she is laying down beside Ellie for a story a few hours later, Ellie stopping her in the middle to ask her about the baby bump throws her off kilter for a moment.  

 

“Your belly is getting bigger, how come?”

 

“Why do you think?” Emma redirects, curious to know if Ellie is onto them or not.

 

“Lots of ice cream?” she suggests, and it’s cute and slightly insulting at the same time. Emma shakes her head, happy to deliver a little better news than the bit she had to earlier.

 

“There’s a baby growing in there,” Emma beams brightly for the first time about this pregnancy, like the guilt from giving Henry away is finally falling from her shoulders.

 

“A baby?” Ellie asks with something Emma mistakes as awe, but seconds after Emma nods, Ellie’s eyes squint at her with a cold scrutiny and she considers Emma quietly for a minute or so. Her face scrunches up just before the words slip out. “Why? Who is the baby’s mommy gonna be?”

 

“Me?” Emma swallows down the fear that this is going to go terribly wrong. She keeps her hopes up that Ellie will just burst with sunshine and rainbows any second because that’s what she’s been gunning for.

 

But second by second, she starts to regret not waiting for Killian, because if Ellie bursts with something awful, Emma can’t handle that alone.

 

“Wait,” Ellie jerks her head back in shock. “You wanna be a mommy?”

 

And if it were a few weeks ago, she’d probably say ‘Heck no’ and keep it pushing. But Ellie is the main reason she wants to be a mother now. That week she found out, she felt so far out of her element, but as the weeks past, she finds the two of them have come into something pretty well designed. She wants to keep it going for as close to ‘forever’ as she can get.

 

“Yeah,” Emma exhales, on the hope it helps, not hurts the situation.

 

It hurts.

 

“I can go night-night alone.” Ellie assures her, tears well up as her brilliant baby blues turn a deeper sapphire and she regards Emma with what appears to be disgust. “You can go tell your baby a story.”

 

“Ellie?”

 

“G’night,” Ellie dismisses, tossing her body restlessly to face away from Emma.

 

She hates herself for thinking this would be a happy moment. How stupid could she be to think Ellie would be happy when a little over a week ago she heard Ellie telling Roland that the three of them were happy the way things were?

 

Because the three of them were misfits that didn’t fit a basic family design, but now Killian and Emma are biologically parents and she just made Ellie feel what Emma’s been harboring her whole life.

 

She was adopted once, and although it’s not something she can remember, she can remember learning that she was also surrendered three years later when the Swans had their own kid. She lived with the concept that people will want her, but only for so long, and it’s never quite left her.

 

And where she thought opening her heart to Ellie was the safest it would ever be, she finds that all she did was subject herself to a heartbreak she’s not sure she can withstand the thought of, let alone the actually suffering it comes with.

 

“I know you’re mad at me, but I love you so much, Ellie,” she sniffles after rising from the bed to leave. She’s choking back the urge to break in earshot, but it’s swelling in her throat like she’s having an allergic reaction to constant heartache. “Goodnight.”

 

-/-

 

His muscles ache and his mind is twice as exhausted when he trudges through the apartment door at 10:30pm. It’s barely late enough for Emma to be asleep, but Ellie should be out cold. He takes a few steps through the entryway after securing the lock on the front door. He tosses her keys in the designated place, right beside where she tossed his and they look great together. It makes it look more homey, just the sight of them mingling in his catch-all.

 

He hears footsteps padding across the hardwood, and before he can turn to greet them, he’s got her arms around him.

 

“Swan?” he turns to get a better hold of her as she’s burying her face into his chest and sniffling. He knows it’s been a rough day and he should have been there for her instead of sending her away. He had hoped she’d be snuggled up next to Ellie and feeling better. “It’s alright, Love. It’s okay.”

 

“It’s really not,” she huffs against his chest, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist. “I fucked up.”

 

“No, you didn’t. Lily’s the crook, remember?” he glides his hand over back of her head, gliding his fingers through her hair to the ends, but her head starts to shake halfway through the second run.

 

“Not Lily, Ellie. I fucked up with Ellie, Killian,” she tugs away far enough for him to see her red-rimmed eyes and the broken heart behind them. “I told her about the baby.”

 

He knows sometimes it’s a pain to be right. Sometimes your suspicions are correct and there’s nothing rewarding about it.

 

“She’s upset?”

 

“She hates me,” Emma sobs, the dam breaks in an instant and she’s bawling in his arms again, mumbling words he doesn’t care to understand at the moment. He just wants things to be okay again. He wants the life he thinks they all deserve, he wants a happy Swan and a loving Ellie and a home to come home to that doesn’t have tears lining the doorway and arguments in the kitchen. He wants a fucking break.

 

“Is she asleep?”

 

“I really don’t know,” her words broken between gasps. “She kicked me out.”

“How long ago was that?”

 

“A little after nine,” she holds herself when he moves away from her to check on Ellie. She holds herself and watches him like he hates her, too. He doesn’t know what to say to make it all go away, he doesn’t know about this. He didn’t read any books about this.

 

Does he wish she waited? Yes; but is he going to tell her that? Hell no. He wants to tell her to stop crying, to take a bubble bath or eat some ice cream, or just fucking smile because this hellish day is taking its toll on everyone and he misses the sunshine.

 

But he stays silent.

 

Ellie’s in a fitful sleep with tantrum tremors that rattle her breath every seven seconds or so. He doesn’t want to risk waking her so he shuts her door slowly without so much as a kiss to her temple.

 

Emma’s still holding herself and watching him fearfully like he’s going to shout or something. He doesn’t want to risk breaking her, so he just moves to his bedroom hoping she follows suit.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers from the doorway but all he can do is nod in reply. This night is wrecked, it’s a cursed day, no conversation is going to change that now. He kicks off his shoes and takes off his shirt while she watches him for instruction or something.

 

It’s when he undoes the buckle of his jeans that she speaks again and he has to stop himself from losing it. “I’ll go” she says. “I’ll just…I’ll go.”

 

He wants to ask ‘go where?’ or ‘What the fuck do you mean, go?’  He wants to ask her if she thinks that’s conducive? Is she’s going to do this leaving thing every time she and Ellie don’t agree, because she’s five right now, but one day she’ll be fifteen and she might come back with something spiteful like ‘you’re not my mom’ and is Emma just going to throw her hands up and say ‘you’re right, I’ll leave’?

 

“Tomorrow will be a new day,” he quotes his brother like he did the night they died, when Anna was sobbing and Kris was silent and no one knew how to gather themselves up from the floor. “You wait for sunlight to sail on after a storm,” he continues and maybe it means nothing coming out of his own mouth, but if he closes his eyes and thinks of every time the world ended in his life, he can hear Liam, feel his hand on his shoulder, and know things will be alright.

 

“What if she still hates me tomorrow?”

 

“I can guarantee she doesn’t even hate you today. This is Ellie we’re talking about. She doesn’t have the capacity to hate anyone, you of all people. What did she even say?”

 

“She said she could go to bed alone,” Emma exhales, her voice trembling like it’s too much to even talk about. “She said I could go read a story to my baby.”

 

His eyes moisten without warning, and he tries to encompass his brother’s voice again. He tries his hardest to hear Liam and know that it’s okay. That tomorrow will in fact be a brand new day, and if he just keeps reminding himself of that, maybe he can get through to see it, to fix things and they can just be happy for twenty-four fucking hours in a row.

 

“We’ll talk to her tomorrow. It’ll be different, tomorrow.”

 

-/-

 

The sun blares through his windows like it’s moving in and he should clear some closet space. It has to be at least nine with how bright the room is. He turns to find the bed cold on Emma’s side, and he swears if she left in the middle of the night, he doesn’t know what he’ll say to her.

 

“Am I going to school today?” He didn’t see Ellie standing at the foot of the bed, probably the reason he woke in the first place.

 

“I thought you could stay home with me?” he offers, but she doesn’t seem pleased. She just bows her head and nods, moving to the other side of the bed and climbing in. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“No,” she answers dryly.

 

“Do you want to talk about why not?”

 

“What’s Emma’s baby gonna call you?”

 

“Is Emma here?” he doesn’t mean to ignore her question, but he just woke up and Ellie’s in a very straight-no-chaser kind of mood. He can’t stomach it like this.

 

“She’s making me French toast, she says she’s bad at pancakes but she is better at French toast,” Ellie tugs her knees to her chest, laying her cheek to one with a shuddering breath.

 

“Do you think she’s bad at pancakes?”

 

“Yeah, kinda but I love her so I eat them anyways,” she tugs at her tight pajama pants and sighs once more.” What’s the baby gonna call you?”

 

“Probably daddy. It’s my baby, too,” he confesses, complete unprepared for how quickly her eyes develop tears.

 

“No,” she whispers. “What about me?” she creaks like an old door, neglected and forgotten.

 

“Well, you’ll still be Ellie. Unless you want a new nickname from the baby.” It’s a stupid, stupid route to take, but she usually reacts well to pointless oblivious behavior with a laugh.

 

“No, Uncle Kilo, what about me? What do I call you and Emma? I don’t get a mommy and daddy but the baby does?”

 

“Look at me,” he levels, rising from his position and tugging her into his lap. She doesn’t fight, her wide eyes watching his like her whole world lives in them. “You said it yourself, my love, I’ve been both, right? Don’t I take care of you?”

 

“Yeah,” she answers under her breath.

 

“Don’t I love you with everything I have?”

 

“Yeahhh, but…”

 

“Don’t you love me back?”

 

“Yes, Uncle Kilo!” she shouts, her bones bouncing in her skin. “But…but I…”

 

“And Emma?”

 

“Yeah, and Emma!” she cries. “I want Emma to stay with us.”

 

“She isn’t going to leave us because of a baby. She loves you, you know she loves you, don’t you?”

 

“But I can’t be her favorite no more, and she won’t just stay here. I don’t want her to have her own house and her own baby. I want to be her baby,” Ellie confesses in a mess of whiny sobs that have her face glistening in tears.

 

“What’s wrong?” Emma comes rushing through the door in a panic. “What’s wrong?”

 

But Killian can’t take his eyes away from Ellie’s. They watch each other with this new discovery in the air and where he thought he was hurting her because the promise of her being all he needs seemed to lessen in strength, her promise claiming the same has fallen away. She needs Emma now too, and that’s what’s hurting his little girl. It has nothing to do with him at all.

 

“Ellie, are you okay?” Emma continues because she’s not getting any answers, and they still don’t come. Ellie keeps watching Killian like he’s going to spill a secret she shouldn’t be keeping anyway. “Is anyone going to answer me?”

 

“Ellie wants to talk to you,” he states as calmly as he can. “Give her a second to count to ten. And she’ll talk to you, right Love bug?” Ellie glares at him but agrees with a nod of her head. He slides her from his lap, brushing her clammy hair back and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

 

When he leaves them alone, he assures them he’ll finish the French toast. He’s tempted to listen by the door, but they really should do this alone.

 

-/-

 

Emma wasn’t sure what she was in for, but Ellie looked awful, and all she wanted to do was take care of her and make it better. She’s just not so sure she’ll let Emma do anything for her.

 

“What’s wrong, kid? What do you want to talk about?”

 

“Why do you want to be a mommy to the baby and not me? I don’t have a mommy and you could be my mommy if you want to be a mommy so bad. You didn’t have to make a baby.”

 

“You want me…” she thinks she lives in a state of overwhelming conditions. She can’t find a way to ever get her heart beat lower anymore. She has to take moments to breathe, not seconds but like five minute intervals and she knows Ellie doesn’t have the patience for it, but she’ll faint if she doesn’t take a second to think.

 

“If you were just _my_ Emma, I would not be so sad, but you are someone’s mommy now. And…”

 

“You want me to be your mommy too?”

 

“Yeah,” Ellie whines. “I love you so so much and everybody says you’re so pretty, and we both have blonde hair. People think you are my mommy like they think Uncle Kilo is my daddy.”

 

“And that’s what you want?”

 

“I want you to stay with me and not leave. I don’t want the baby to be your favorite. I wanna be your favorite.”

 

“Ellie, I’m not going to leave you,” Emma reminds her for the hundredth time. She loves her and the last 10 hours she thought Ellie hated her were some of her most broken since jail. The idea of not having her in her life is crippling enough. She’s not going to go anywhere. “The baby isn’t going to take away how much I love you.”

 

“But you will love the baby more ‘cause you are it’s mommy?”

 

“What does that word even mean to you, Ellie?” Emma asks with more strength than fear now, now that Ellie will look at her and talk to her instead of hiding. “What does a mommy do that I won’t do for you? I love you more than anything and I’ve barely even known you that long. We are each other’s favorites, remember? I will love you with just as much love as I do this baby. You know, I never wanted to even be a mommy until I met you.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really. I didn’t know how to act like a mommy, I didn’t know what it meant to be one, but you make me want to act like all the mom’s I’ve ever met do, only better. You make me want to be the best I can be to you.”

 

“And the baby?” Ellie slides her hands down to Emma’s stomach, staring at it with less distrust than before.

 

“Yeah, the baby too.”

 

“Breakfast is ready,” his voice is easy from the doorway, and his smile startles her when she looks his way. Was he watching? Did he hear? Does he know?

 

“Kay,” Emma answers with suspicion on her tongue, but proceeds to lift herself and Ellie off the bed, he steps in before she makes it a foot toward the kitchen and pulls Ellie from her arms to his. She wants to roll her eyes, but she kisses his cheek instead. She’s just relieved tomorrow came and the world didn’t end last night. He was right about that, and he’s right about this.

 

-/-

 

Ellie sits on Killian’s lap all through breakfast as they eat at the dining room table. She asks a million and one questions about the baby starting with whether it’s a boy or a girl.

 

“We find out next month. You want to come to the appointment?” Killian asks, feeding her a bite from his plate like they aren’t eating the same thing.

 

“Yeah, I think I should be there,” she nods so sure of her importance as she chews and it’s so soothing to see her back to her old self again. “What’s its name?” she continues with a big swallow.

 

“We don’t know what we’re having yet, we can’t just name it,” Emma reminds her.

 

“Okay, do you think it’s gonna be a boy or a girl?” Because Ellie has far too many questions to be held up on any one answer.

 

“What would you prefer?”

 

“Uhm… I don’t care, as long as they are nice to me and like ice cream and ships.”

 

“You’ll teach them how to be nice,” Killian beams at Ellie and she smiles just as brightly back. It’s finally a new day and it’s so much brighter than the last few. It feels like summer has finally hit Boston and the sun is shining for the first time in weeks.

 

“Will the baby sleep in my room?”

 

“We’ll probably get a bigger place, lovey,” Killian doesn’t look at Emma for that answer, it’s still undecided and they have so much to talk about when it comes to housing.

 

“Will she have blonde hair like me and Emma?”

 

“We don’t know if she’s a girl,” Emma isn’t necessarily hoping for either, but she doesn’t want Ellie to get her hopes up for a girl.

  
“Or what color her hair will be,” Killian adds.

 

“I think she’s a girl.”

 

“Why’s that?” Killian challenges, and Emma knows that’s why Ellie’s as articulate as she is now. Whenever they have discussions, he makes her talk as much as possible, really voice all her opinions and support her ideas. She’ll be a tiny diplomat by 10 at the rate she’s going.

 

“I dunno. Just do.”

 

“What would you name her then?” Emma joins in the questioning.

 

“I like Nala or Jasmine if it’s a girl but if it’s a boy, can we name him Jake?”

 

“No,” Killian grins like an idiot; the same grin Ellie hates to love because it means she’s not getting her way, but she can’t help but be happy about it because every smile Killian Jones has is a stellar experience and a girl can’t help but smile back.

 

“Fine,” Ellie rolls her eyes and takes a turn to feed him a bite of her French toast. “Do I get to be a big sister or something else?” Killian’s eyes flash to Emma’s as hers meet his and they agree on it telepathically. They open their mouths to speak in unison.

 

“Sister.”

 

 


	12. Energy Redirected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With Undying gratitude to my beta, RavenclawPianist, and those of you who show love to this fic

 

 

**Energy Redirected**

 

“She’ll probably have blue eyes like me, huh Emma?”

 

It’s snowballed since the moment she found out she would be someone’s sister, not a forgotten family member that’s been pushed to the side. All she does is ask what the baby will be like, and she won’t let it die that she just knows it will be a girl. She asks when they will get a bigger house, and if the baby’s room will be close to hers. She asks if they can have sleepovers in case her baby sister misses her in the middle of the night. She asks what her favorite type of ice cream will be and how long until she’s allowed to have it.

 

She asks a million and one questions a day about the baby, and Emma has to come up with make-believe responses that aren’t so misleading Ellie will end up upset if they don’t come to pass.

 

“And be blonde like us, and like Chinese food like us”

 

“She can’t come out eating Chinese food, Ellie.” Emma reminds her. “And remember, she could still be a boy.”

 

“It’s a girl, Emma, I know it is.”

 

“Bug, I don’t want you to be sad if it’s a boy.”

 

“I won’t be sad. I don’t want you to be sad when it is a girl though,” Ellie challenges as she continues to color another picture to decorate the nursery with.

 

“I won’t be sad either way Ellie, don’t worry. If it’s a girl or boy, it’s just fine with me.”

 

“Good,” Ellie smirks knowingly. She’s so much like her uncle when he thinks he knows something for certain. “Oh and don’t worry, I am not picking just ‘girl’ colors ‘cause there is no such thing. Uncle Kilo says that only animals and people can be boys and girls, but everything else is just things. So any color I choose is okay for her.”

 

“Very true.” Killian agrees upon entering Ellie’s bedroom. He gives Emma a peculiar glare and it probably has more to do with her crouched in the tiny chair of Ellie’s activity table. He doesn’t let her use crayons on the dining room table, so it’s really his own fault. “That can’t be comfortable.”

 

“No, but we’re coloring,” she replies with a knowing smirk of her own.

 

“Well, find a stopping point if you please, my queen,” he directs Ellie. “We have a few things to do today. It’s my last day off for a while, and I want to make sure we don’t fail to get the necessities done.”

 

“What do we have to do?” Ellie asks while keeping her eyes and hands fixated on finishing up the picture. “It’s Sunday.”

 

“I want to get you school clothes before next month. I want to get your hair trimmed, I need to buy you a new backpack, school supplies, I thought we could buy a new bedspread, maybe a couple of things with the gift cards Anna sent you from overseas.”

 

“Things?”

 

“You were really good Eloise, very diplomatic, but you too deserve something for making it another year. You donated all those gifts to the orphanage, but you should get yourself something too.”

 

“Oh, I don’t want things...” Ellie stalls as she’s coloring, looking at her hands and contemplating. “Well, I want a new paint set so I can paint pictures too, not just color them. And I wanna buy my baby sister stuff.”

 

“Don’t worry about the baby, who may be a boy,” Killian warns for the fifth or so time today. Emma motions for him to give it a rest, the girl is set in her ways. “Anyhow, a paint set sounds like a marvelous idea. You’ll get your shoes on then?”

 

“Yes,” she agrees, slowly signing her name to her picture and tossing her crayons back in the little metallic bucket strung to the side of the table. “Could we buy frames for the pictures I’m making for my baby sister?”

 

-/-

 

After getting Ellie’s hair cut, they walk through the shopping plaza hand-in-hand as he holds Ellie in his arms. They’ve been complimented twice on their ‘little family’ and she couldn’t find a single nervous tinge if she tried.

 

The last three days were full of tender kisses and acts of love and respect. He’s been giving her everything she never knew she needed and a couple of things she’s been needing desperately.

 

Thursday was a recovery day. They spent most of the time curled up on the couch watching Disney movies with Ellie. They took turns rubbing Emma’s belly and getting each other excited about the baby. Emma tried her hardest not to cry over it, but it’s nothing like her first pregnancy, and to be honest, nothing like her life had ever been.

 

Ellie asked to have a sleepover in the living room with tents again, but Killian said no, explaining how that isn’t the most comfortable for Emma in her ‘condition.’ Ellie understood and asked if she could sleep in the room with them. This time, Ellie is less sporadic in her sleeping positions, and they all wake up mildly comfortable.

 

Friday they went to the beach. Ellie loves the ocean as much as she loves the ships that sail them. Killian smothered her in enough sunblock to protect paper from burning. She’s a slippery little monkey when her feet touch the sand, and they must have spent half the time chasing her around, listening to her life-changing laughter.

 

Ellie and Emma buried Killian up to his neck, then they moved to build a sand castle as he tried to get himself out. They ate a late lunch at a taco shack a short walk from shore, and Emma got her first case of heartburn this pregnancy. Ellie immediately suggested ice cream _‘cause it’s cold and your heart is burning, right?_

 

She was tuckered out before they reached the apartment, and Emma wasn’t sure she could have this much love inside of her. There are sights you want to capture, make your screen saver or your wallpaper, and the sight of a slightly sun-kissed little girl clinging to a very handsome and beautifully tanned man in her sleep is one of them. She didn’t hesitate to pull her phone out and take a picture as he stood with Ellie asleep, her cheek squished against his shoulder, unlocking the door to the apartment.

 

Saturday brought pancakes and more pajama fun until about noon when Ellie had to get ready for a birthday party. The three of them attended the party of Alice’s daughter, Stassie. Killian’s receptionist may be of the meeker variety at work, but that’s only compared to Ruby and Smee. In her own element, she’s very witty, outgoing and bright, and her three-year-old daughter is the sweetest thing.

 

Ruby had made subtle hints about the baby the entire day, but Emma didn’t pay it too much mind. Killian confessed to telling the gang that helped clear out her apartment, but she told Ellie without his permission, so fair is fair. Besides, Ellie knows now, it’s really only a matter of minutes before the rest of the world does, right?

 

(And because Ellie knows, it really doesn’t matter if the rest of the world cares.)

 

All in all, the last three days were completely contradictory to the last three weeks, and all the proof she needed to know that this family was hers from here on out. She couldn’t survive ever letting them go.

 

But now it’s Sunday, and although his hand feels like heaven in her own, and Ellie’s constant conversation about naming the baby something regal does to Emma’s heart what calcium does to bones, she’s still not staying past tonight.

 

She told Mary Margaret she’d be moved in before Monday. She doesn’t want to call her and tell her otherwise, so when they finish shopping, Emma’s got to break the news that she has to get going if she wants to set up her things in the guest room at a reasonable hour.

 

“Okay, enough about the baby, what about Eloise? What kind of backpack do you want, lovey?” Killian asks after they enter this children’s store. “Solid? Stripes?”

 

“I like my Jake and the Neverland Pirate’s one, Uncle Kilo,” she expresses with discontent. “Can’t we just get that one, only bigger?”

 

“I don’t know, I was thinking something without characters on it.”

 

“Why?” Emma questions, not that she’s a huge advocate for a six-year-old pirate, but Ellie likes it, and the kid kind of looks like Killian. She doesn’t see a problem with it.

 

He glares at her like she stepped over some line.

 

They haven’t spoken about what Ellie said to her in the bedroom that morning, about wanting her to be her mom. It doesn’t feel like a conversation they should have in the midst of blissful coexistence. She’d rather save it for when he’s already mad.

 

She just isn’t sure if he’d be mad about that or not. Would she if the roles were reversed?

 

Sure, it’s only been just over four months, but she knew Ellie was special almost instantly. Now, well, now there’s nothing in this world that could make her want to leave this little girl’s life. He knows that.

 

“I just thought it would be more mature,” he shrugs. “Of course, it’s your choice, Love Bug. Get whatever backpack you want.” He sets Ellie down to let her go look. As soon as she’s preoccupied, he’s swirling around dramatically and entering Emma’s space. “You’re suddenly an advocate for the boy pirate?”

 

“She likes ships, Babe.”

 

“Do you think I’m being too controlling then?” he breaks into something insecure again, like he’s not Ellie’s dad and he doesn’t want her to resent him. “I just keep thinking this is something Elsa and Liam would have really wanted to do with her. This is her going to school, and I should… I don’t know, make similar choices they would.” His eyes watch hers, flickering around her face like he’s testing his limits with the weight of Ellie’s dead parents.

 

And it weighs so damn much. These are strangers and she’s trying to eventually fill their shoes. At least Killian knows them, Emma has no idea what fucking backpack her real father would want her to have.

 

“Did your brother pick your backpack for Kindergarten?”

 

“He hadn’t found me yet.” Killian furrows his brow and turns from her. She can’t even grasp what he’s talking about because he was confiding in her and she made some shit joke out of panic and now the moments over and he’s going to go back to thinking she isn’t completely in love with him.

 

“I like this one a lot,” Ellie tugs out this cute green and teal polka dotted one, with purple straps and detailing. “I think I love these colors.”

 

“You think?” he teases and she just slaps the backpack against his stomach.

 

“Can you hold this?” But it’s hardly a question when she’s already filling her hands with other things after it comes out.

 

Emma watches her gather up a matching water bottle and lunchbox. She has a determined look in her gorgeous blue eyes as she moves around the display.

 

“Maybe the folders look like this, too, Emma?”

 

“Maybe, you want me to hold those while you look?”

 

“No, just hold my baby sister, I’ll carry these.” As if she needed another Jones treating her like an invalid.

 

“Thanks, Bug,” Emma smiles despite the urge to roll her eyes. Ellie when determined is a dry and mechanical being. She could probably be a future world leader because she’s got some killer focus for a five-year-old.

 

They end up getting a matching folder, water bottle, soup thermos, lunch bag, pencil case and overnight bag. They most certainly didn’t come for all of that, but Killian doesn’t bat an eyelash, handing his card over to the cashier.

 

Her money troubles haven’t been on the forefront of her mind the last three days, she’s just been excited that Ellie is excited over the baby. She’s just been happy.

 

But like every other Sunday in any other situation, it’s a day to remember and reflect on what reality actually looks like. Whether it’s going back to school and work, or just going back to life as she knows it, it’s still bitter and frustrating.

 

Because this could be life as she knows it, this could be her Monday thru Thursday too, not just her weekend escape. She could be combing Ellie’s hair every night after her shower, picking her up every afternoon from school. She hates those ballet moms with a passion, but she’d be willing to sit through every rehearsal if that’s what Ellie wanted.

 

If that’s what he wanted, too.

 

What they tell you in the fairytales is ‘Love is hard’ to which she’d say ‘No shit, Sherlock’ but it’s not just love that’s hard. Love is easy, really, it sneaks up on you. One minute you’re trying to hook up with a really gorgeous man, and the next you’re trying to keep him out of your thoughts long enough to brush your teeth in the morning. Falling in love wasn’t difficult at all.

 

Staying in love is what scares her. She’s afraid it will be that much harder if she’s always around. Not harder for her. It took her years to feel like she’s finally stopped loving Neal. Maybe harder for him to not hate seeing her face every day. Maybe he’ll walk in one morning, really in a rush and see she has her stupid wet towels on the floor again and just decide this is not worth it.

 

It’s this conscious effort to not do the things that drive him crazy, to remember what he likes, to remember how to make him happy, make him want her. It’s easy to be in love now, she can just go home when he starts to bug her too much with his germaphobic bullshit. It’s easy for him to look past the mess she makes when she’s trying to pour milk in her cereal, or the fact that she’s broken two toasters at his house already. It’s easy because it’s new.

 

What happens when it gets old?

 

She doesn’t question that he loves her, but she’s already put him through so much. She just wonders if he’ll always love her, and if the answer is no, she’s not gonna go on and get thrown out on her ass again.

 

“Are you tired?” She’s not exactly startled from her thoughts, but they’re still broken without finishing, and they follow her to the present. She doesn’t want to meet his eyes when she imagines a day they won’t look at her like they are now. She really can’t help it though, they’ve always drawn her in. “We can take a rest, if you need it.” He motions to her stomach and she shakes her head gently, unable to speak any words that don’t sound like fear.

 

-/-

 

Sometimes it slips, that same sorrow he has been fighting with for over a year to conceal. Sometimes, and usually when it comes to the rate Ellie is growing at, he feels the weight of their world on his shoulders. They left him with it. They thought he’d be strong enough, and he tries his hardest not to let them down, but sometimes it slips.

 

Sometimes he tests her to see if she’d be willing to catch it.

 

Killian wears his heart on his sleeve when it comes to loving her. Emma deserves to know she’s loved, worshipped even. He doesn’t hold it in for a minute, because she’s gone so long without it, he doesn’t think she deserves to go another minute. It’s his own history he withholds, and it’s not like she’s vying to learn about it.

 

Every now and again it slips, this world he’s cradling on top his own, and she not only fails to catch it, she doesn’t even notice the drop. Until now.

 

“What did you mean earlier?” They’re back home now, and Ellie is busy at the dining room table using her new paint set. Emma challenged him about his ‘stupid’ rules, says Ellie eats breakfast at the bar most days and the glass collects dust.

 

He argues that it most certainly does not collect dust, he’s very thorough, but she just raises a defying brow and they’ve been on this anti-argument kick, he’s not botching that up now for anything.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I asked you first,” she grins before pulling him to sit on the couch. “We were in the shop grabbing her the backpacks and you mentioned them, and you said he hadn’t found you yet? What do you mean?”

 

“He?”

 

“Killian.”

 

“Have you ever said his name?”

 

“Do you want me to say it now with her five feet away?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about this at all with her five feet away.”

 

“You don’t want to talk about this at all. Period. Let’s be honest here.” He almost agrees, but if she wants to test the weight, he’ll let her. Later.

 

“We can talk after she’s asleep,” he suggests, holding his hand in hers and giving her a smile that he hopes conveys ‘compromise.’

 

“I’m… Killian, I’m not staying the night again.” And it feels like brand new information but she watches him like he was supposed to just know that.

 

The truth is, they haven’t talked about a lot over the last few days. They haven’t brought up house-hunting or what Emma was going to do for work. They haven’t brought up the conversation she had with Ellie, or what she’s doing with the things in storage. 

 

“Okay,” he nods, releasing her hand and rising from the couch.

 

“I told Mary Margaret I’d be in by the end of today, she’s already making plans on job-hunting tomorrow and you know she’s a planner like you.”

 

“Okay,” he repeats as he moves over to sit beside Ellie at the dining room table. He’s actually using his five-year-old as a shield from talking about this any further.

(More like a reminder to stay calm.)

 

Emma stands from the couch and follows him, determined to have this talk regardless of who is in their presence.

 

“Killian?” She’s standing beside the table but he angles himself away from her because he feels it all again, feels the festering need to beg her to stay. He doesn’t want to tell her what to do. He doesn’t want to ask her over and over again to choose this with him, because it hurts over and over again when she doesn’t.

 

“Do you need help moving in? We could follow you as long as we’re home by 8.”

 

“No,” she spits, letting the clock tick by a few times before she exhales the hateful breath she’s holding. “Ellie come give me a hug, I’ve got to go.”

 

“Go where?” Ellie pops her head up, eyes almost popping out of her head.

 

“I’m gonna stay with Mrs. Nolan for a little while, until I find a place of my own. Then you can come over whenever you want and we’ll spend so much time together.”

 

“Why can’t you stay here?”

 

“We talked about it,” Emma reminds her, but Ellie isn’t having it today. Lucky Ellie, to be five and say whatever you want without repercussion. He wants to cry and whine about Emma leaving too, but something about him doing it at his age is uncalled for. She on the other hand is just heartbreaking.

 

“I wanna talk ‘bout it again, Emma,” Ellie whines. “I wanna talk ‘til you say you will stay with us.”

 

“Well that’s not gonna happen,” Emma snaps. His eyes jump to her, and he sees her recoil into herself almost immediately after, but the aggression was still seen and Ellie is still going to react.

 

“You’re not being nice,” Ellie cries. “I want my baby sister to stay with me.”  

 

“Ellie, we don’t know that it’s a girl, and she’s not born yet. Right now, she’s in my tummy and she goes where I go.”

 

“Don’t go,” Ellie argues and Emma stomps her foot glaring at him to step in.

 

“Don’t go,” he echoes, because does she really think he’s going to reprimand Ellie for voicing the very thoughts in his head?

 

“Dammit Killian,” she groans, before moving from the dining area and into his room. Ellie sitting back in her chair pouting, but she hasn’t shed a tear, so she must believe there’s still a chance she’ll get her way.

 

“You’re too beautiful to pout, Love Bug,” he whispers. “Keep painting the baby a picture, I’ll be right back.” Her spine curls in defeat as she groans to herself, but she does what he asks and picks back up her paintbrush before he’s moved on past the table.

 

“What am I supposed to do when she’s begging for me to stay like that?” His feet barely cross the threshold and she’s already flinging anger at him. “Please help me out, Killian; it drives me insane that she’s upset with me.”

 

He sits on the bed next to her suitcase, refolding the clothes she’s just tossing in without a care. He hates when she packs angry because she always has to pack twice when the zipper won’t shut.

 

“Maybe you could talk to her. I already told her that I can’t move in here, but she always listens to you.”

 

He remains quiet, pulling out two of his t-shirts that she ever-so-sweetly pressed into her suitcase like they belonged to her. She smacks her hand down on the edge and groans.

 

“Can you say something?”

 

“These are mine,” he reminds her without missing a beat. “Give me something of yours.”

 

“I have ten shirts hanging in your closet,” she snatches the cotton tees from his hands and slaps them back into the suitcase. “That’s not exactly what I wanted you to say either, buddy.”

 

“Stay,” he wagers, digging his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from begging.

 

“Nuh uh,” she answers just as distractingly as her tongue slowly tapping the roof of her mouth before making an appearance across her bottom lip. That’s her tactic the last few days, lick her lips and make him want to kiss her and the argument on the rise vanishes.  “Try again.”

 

“We have too much to talk about Emma.” She rolls her neck and drops the vixen act.

 

“We talked about some of it already.”

 

“No, we didn’t.”

 

The moment is stale, and he meets her eyes to find she’s just as lost as he is on how to express what they mean.

 

“My mother died when I was Ellie’s age.” Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t say a word, moving quickly to sit beside him. To really express she’s 100% invested, she wraps her arm through his, linking their hands with so much strength he thinks it’s love again.  “My father left one night, I wouldn’t really be able to recall when or why, but he didn’t return. I was alone for days, maybe a week, I know I was starving. The neighbor in the flat above us heard me crying for him.”

 

“Killian.” She breaks, and he knows she’s seconds from saying something about how it’s the baby’s doing, but tears are streaming down her face and she breaks the lock on their intertwined fingers to wrap her arms around his torso. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Anyhow…” he continues, because apologies don’t change things, they both know that. “It took Liam another couple of months to find me. The neighbor had called the authorities but Liam had gotten a letter from where he was stationed. He was barely eighteen. Our father wrote him to say he left, and to come home to find me, but I had been taken away. It took him months to find me. I didn’t start school for another year or so. We barely had shelter from the elements for another year or so, and food was scarce and he worked as many jobs as he could.”

 

It’s not a common instance for him to be bare like this for anyone. He holds back his own tears, but the hurt is all-consuming when he meets her pleading eyes.

 

“It’s not just Ellie, it’s them too. It’s Elsa, and her guidance, and it’s Liam and his strength. I can’t just let them all down. I can’t hurt her. I can’t let her get hurt. Do you understand? They trusted me for whatever reason to keep her happy and safe and to do for her what Liam did for me, so when it comes down to it, Emma, when it really comes down to it—”

 

“I won’t hurt her,” she vows, her hands reaching to cradle his jaw between them. “I’m not ever going to leave her. I’m not going to leave either of you.”

 

“You’re leaving tonight.” She drops her hands from his face, and he knows the answer is still the same. He drops it. The whole thing, because now he feels a lifetime worth of emotion swirling in his stomach, and anything he says now may come out harsher than he means. “Right… Just, keep in mind what I said.”

 

He rises from the bed, ready to break the bad news to Ellie that he couldn’t get Emma to change her mind. He’s inches from the doorway when she jumps up from the bed and calls out to him.

 

“If I tell you right now that one day I promise I will be ready, would it do anything for you?”

 

“You don’t have to do anything for me, Love, just take the vitamins and eat right.”

 

-/-

 

This is the work week from Hell.

Everyday he’s had meeting after meeting, followed by skype calls and phone conferences. He’s been working late every night, and Ellie’s normal sitter is working right there with him. He’s asked Belle for two of her nights, and she’s done it willingly, because she’s wonderful but he can’t bring himself to lean on her anymore.

 

He has an early morning call to the manufactures of a few parts needed for this new ship. It’s 11:30 at night when he reaches his apartment, finding the sitter he’s hired from the service ages ago barely awake on his sofa.

 

“Miranda?” he calls, and she perks up, turning to him with a shy smile.

 

“Mr. Jones,” she quickly rises, her vibrant red hair falling in ringlets around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, I was just tryna study some for my exam in the morn.” She’s got an accent that makes him want to buy her a pint and argue about football.

 

She’s sat for him often in the past and Ellie is so fond of her big curly hair and talks about equality. He thought for a moment he’d have to get her a bow and arrow for Christmas, but she moved on from that obsession gracefully.

 

“Not a worry, lass,” he pulls the envelop of cash from his breast pocket and tosses it on top of the ‘Organic Chem’ textbook laying open on his coffee table.

 

“Ye know yer supposed to pay through the service”

 

“I did, that’s for tomorrow night. I’m coming home early, come Hell or high water,” he chuckles but he’s dead serious. He won’t spend another dinner time away from Ellie. “Take it off and ace the exam, huh?”

 

“Will do,” she beams before stuffing it all into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I best be off, I’ve gotta get home and go over reactions. Tell Ellie she’s a pleasure as always.”

 

“Drive carefully, lass.”

 

It’s minutes after he’s finished his nightly check of finding Ellie sleeping soundly with Sven tucked beneath her chin that his phone rings. It’s the tone he’s set for Emma, and it’s a bit too late for her to call, so of course he panics before answering.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

_“Are you?”_

 

“Swan?”

 

_“Where have you been? Are you mad at me?”_

 

“No, what’s wrong?”

 

_“What’s wrong? I don’t know, it’s been like four days since I heard your voice. Does that matter to you anymore?”_

  
“Of course it does,” he’s entered his room, closing the door and looking around for something of hers to remember what she smells like. It has been four days and it’s been a long four days, but he’s barely seen Ellie, and he assumes Emma’s sleeping when he gets in. “I just got home, let me just change into something comfortable and I’ll talk you to sleep.”

 

_“Why did you just get home?”_

 

“We talked about this? I am working nonstop on this account to get it done before the holidays. Anna’s coming, I want to take the time off, remember? I want to get us ready for the baby?”

_“Right, the account. Sorry.”_

 

“Don’t be sorry, let me set the phone down for a minute, I’ll be right back okay? I want to hear about your week.”

 

_“Maybe…maybe you should just sleep. It’s been a long four days. Are you still off Saturday?”_

 

“No, I have a couple meetings the next two mornings and a lot of my departments have presentations on Saturday.”

 

_“What about Ellie?”_

 

“She’s asleep now, Love. I know she misses you, but I don’t think I should wake her up.”

_“Me? I’m sure she misses you, and pancake Saturday.”_

 

“Shit,” he forgot about Pancake Saturday for the first Saturday in months. She’s already crabby every morning and whining for her ‘baby sister’ and now he’s not going to be there. “Love, I know you’re not too keen on being here, but can you possibly be here?”

_“I suck at pancakes, and I told you I was coming over tomorrow night? Did you forget that?”_

 

“I’m really busy. I’m sorry.”

 

_“Stop apologizing,”_ she sighs. He can hear her turning over in bed, and wonders if she compares the comfort of it to his. He can hear the mattress creak and wonders if she misses his enough to reconsider. _“What have you been doing with her? I could have kept her this whole time you know?”_

 

“Babysitter, Belle a few times. Probably Granny on Saturday if you can’t.”

_“I can. I’m unemployed and desperate to see her, to see you,”_ she reminds him. _“And not to take this conversation here, as it’s the first we’ve had all week, but you know…I’m here as more than just your girlfriend. I’m not keeping her for you as a favor, we’re stepping into co-parenting with the baby, we can do the same for Ellie.”_

 

He doesn’t know how to respond. He’s tired and there’s so much he has yet to address. He doesn’t want it to spill out now, with her already half-pissed he hasn’t called. Phones work both ways. She didn’t call him and she hasn’t sent him any texts. She is sitting at home, someone else’s home and she hasn’t given a damn about calling either of them.

 

_“Killian?”_

 

“I’m here.”

_“Killian, I want to do the same for Ellie.”_ But it seems farfetched. They were standing here a week ago and she was ready to just go because Ellie was upset with her.

 

“How can I commit to that when you can’t commit to living with us?”

 

_“What?”_

 

“You’re right, I’m rightfully exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Love?”

_“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Goodnight.”_

 

-/-

 

Tomorrow comes sooner than the time she had planned on coming over. It comes to her at 6am when she can’t fall back asleep because she can’t get a grasp on what has actually happened with her life.

 

When did she become the girl who needed to hear her boyfriend’s voice? When did the word ‘boyfriend’ start seeming too small and unimportant for him? When did she decide she’d rather live with them and risk him hating her in ten years over wet towels than risk having to go days without speaking with him again?

 

And when did she become the girl who brings her boyfriend lunch?

 

Today apparently. They upgraded from cupcakes and she’s not using Scarlet as a cover story. She’s at his building by 1pm and hopes he hasn’t eaten yet because she’s bought him something Italian since she knows it’s his favorite.

 

The building is buzzing and people barely notice her as she walks through the lobby and waits for the elevator. His floor is just as busy.

 

“Hey, Emma? What uhm…what are you doing here?” She notices Ruby’s eyes scanning down her body like she’s calculating how wide she’s gotten in one week.

 

“Lunch for your boss man,” she lifts the takeout bag. “Is he here?

 

“Yeah, but…” she frowns, moving her down the hall with a gentle hand on her shoulder. It’s unfamiliar but they’ve come a long way from the first time she came here. “He’s super busy, and really cranky if we’re being honest. I don’t want him to snap at you.”

 

“He doesn’t ‘snap’ at me,” Emma laughs, because that’s the last thing Killian would do. He usually just clenches his jaw and looks away like he’s wounded. She’s waiting for the snap. That’s the day she finally meets him for who he is.

 

“Well, today very well may be your lucky day, Hun. He’s not a happy camper.” Right on cue he’s storming down the hall rambling a number of things to Smee and Peter. His eyes aren’t illuminating the room per usual, but dim and dark. Smee must have said something off because he turns on him so dramatically, so intensely that the man actually cowers in return.

 

“Shit,” Ruby groans. “This is not a good day.” Before Emma can say anything else, Ruby is storming off toward the other wing of the floor. Emma has seconds to set her eyes back on Killian before he reaches her with an exhausted expression.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“I brought you lunch,” she replies, handing him the bag gently.

 

He snatches it.

 

“Thanks. Another thing I don’t have time for,” And then he shoves it to Smee to get rid of it. “Love, you’re a vision, truly but a vision I honestly have no time for right now. I thought we agreed to see each other later?”

 

“I think we need to see each other now,” she stands her ground. “In your office?” He narrows his eyes at her, cocking his head to the side like she’s way out of line, or he’s just trying to figure how out. He knows exactly what she’s about. She’s not backing down because he’s cranky.

 

Just when it seems like a battle, the sun shines and he smiles, nodding and motioning toward his office. He snatches the bag back from Smee and follows her in, not before turning back to his employees.

 

“I’m taking a lunch break. If you can’t push the next conference back an hour, cancel.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Smee grins, maneuvering his head to catch Emma’s eye from behind Killian. “Nice to see you, Emma.” He says with a wink. Killian doesn’t hesitate to shut the office door.

 

She’s not sure if he’s really happy to eat lunch with her, or that was an act, but he turns on her the way he turned on Smee and she feels her heart quicken at the closeness.

 

“I missed you,” he whispers, snaking his free arm around her smothering her with a rough kiss. “I missed you so bloody much this week, Love.”

 

“I missed you, too,” she says between the second and third press of his lips. “Why are you being so grumpy?”

 

“Swan withdrawals,” he answers with a lazy grin. “I’m sorry for last night.”

 

“It’s okay. You’re tired and I’m needy.”

 

“You’re the least needy person I’ve ever met,” he laughs, moving to his desk and clearing off the papers to make adequate dining space. “Do you want to sit in my chair? It’s more comfortable.”

 

“I’d rather sit on your lap,” she tries his stupid waggling eyebrow trick and strikes gold with an audible laugh this time.

 

“Well, be careful what you wish for, darling”

 

“Have you ever fantasized about sex in here?”

 

“Swan?” he gasps, feigning modesty all of a sudden like he’s the most virginal thing to ever live.

 

“I’m just saying, you’re stressed, I’m into it. Think about it.” He leaves his office chair pulled out for her before moving around to sit at the guest chairs.

 

“Tell me about your week, Swan.” She takes a seat as he’s pulling out the food and setting out forks and what not. She grabs them both a bottle of water from his mini fridge before sitting back.

 

“Well…”

 

And she mentions everything from Monday to now. She tells him how settling in was, not mentioning how ready she feels to move out if it means being with _her_ family more. She tells him about the dogs at the Nolan’s house, how she wants to bring Ellie by because David’s chow is named Simba and she knows Ellie will just freak the hell out. He laughs and begs her not to, says he’ll never hear the end of her begging for a dog of her own and there’s definitely no room for that in their high-rise

 

“Yeah, but we’re getting a house…” It’s not a subtle hint of her decision, it just genuinely slips out. He tries not to react, biting his bottom lip and dropping his chin to his chest.

 

“He’s a vet and they only have one animal?”

 

“Oh, no. They have a mutt he adopted a few years ago named Scamp. She’ll probably love him too. And they have a cat named Rajah. They’re Disney fanatics.”

 

“A family after Love Bug’s own heart,” he smiles to himself, and she knows he’s thinking of Ellie. She gets that same smile when she thinks of Ellie, too. “What else have you been up to this week?”

 

“I’ve been trying to job hunt with Mary Margaret, but I’ve been my own boss for so long. I don’t really know what I could do now.” She knows having her independence in day-to-day life is more important than being her own boss, but she had both a week ago and now she has nothing. Where the old Emma would have felt desperation and a killer need to survive, this Emma just feels annoyed and a bit worthless.

 

“Well, maybe we could make you your own boss again,” he suggests, in between large bites of lasagna. His appetite is actually bigger than hers today and she’s afraid he hasn’t been eating well.

 

(She’s more afraid she just turned into a mother overnight.)

 

“Is this the first time you’ve eaten today?”

 

“All week really.” He exhales through his nose as he continues to chow down, and it’s like the stress he’s under is making even chewing an exhausting endeavor. He catches her concerned expression, he must because his next words are clipped after a harsh swallow. “We were talking about you, Love.”

 

“I thought we already talked about how I really shouldn’t go back into that after having the baby,” she reminds him. “I think I want to do something else, I just…I never really had dreams as a kid I guess. I feel sort of lost, you know?”

 

“Leave breadcrumbs,” he states like he’s reciting a line. She narrows her eyes at him, waiting for him to explain more, but he’s too busy taking another bite of food.

 

“Uh, okay Hansel. What does that mean?”

 

“Elsa used to say it.” His thoughts surrounding them are at an all-time high from when they first got together. He never used to mention them, and she’s not sure if it’s the comfort of their relationship, or the fear of what’s ahead. “She’s says ‘If you’re trying to find yourself, leave breadcrumbs.’ Sometimes the person you were before is better. You might want to get back to her. So, I will support you in all ways you’ll allow, but leave breadcrumbs, you might miss the ‘Bounty Hunter’ life you lived before this baby.”

 

“Did you try to find yourself a lot?” she ignores the idea of going back to the person she was before him, Ellie or this baby. This new Emma cries a lot, but she’s so full of love she doesn’t want to remember the emptiness.

 

“We all did. Liam thought building a corporation would change him. Anna is still lost at sea if you ask me, but…but she’s coming home, actually. I never thought she would and I think it’s the breadcrumbs.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“I don’t think I was found until they died.” His eyes are fixated on her fork she practically dropped at the statement. He’s full of them lately, these one-liners that give her glimpses into the hurt he’s been holding for so much longer than just the accident.

 

“Baby?” And then the spell breaks and he looks up at her and smiles.

 

“I mean, Ellie. I mean, I was really lost from the moment I left for college, and coming home had me feeling like a stranger. I took a job here because I thought I owed it to Liam, but…I had no idea what my life was other than owing things to Liam. Things are supposed to happen for a reason right?” The smile stills for a moment, lips tightened like he’s forcing it, and all at once it falls into this self-depreciating thing that hurts her to watch.

 

“You don’t have to fake anything right now, or ever with me,” she advises, in case he really doesn’t get what it means to be loved. That much she could understand, but he’s been the one teaching her what it means to be loved. “We’re a team. You’re my MVP.”

 

The way his eyes flicker over her face with this incredulous tendency is like a dagger to her heart. She wonders if she told him, like actually said the words, would he believe that she loved him?

 

“I hate that they’re not here, and some days I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. This Royal Navy account is a royal pain in my arse, if I can say that,” he chuckles dryly, running his fingers through hair deep and slow until it sticks up at the sides like she loves, and he looks messy again, like he’s human and they can be equals. Some days he’s so put together, she feels like he’s not even real. She beams at him, feelings of adoration and pure love overwhelm her to the point where her brain can’t send the message to stop smiling that brightly at him.

 

“You can say that.”

 

“I didn’t mean to go on a tangent about them. I definitely don’t mean to make it sound like I could only find myself now that I’m alone. I just meant to tell you that it’s okay to feel lost. If you’re not sure you’re going to like who you become, leave breadcrumbs.”

 

She lifts herself from his chair, leaning across the table. He rises from his own to meet her in the middle for a kiss. His lips are gentle, it’s the most tender moment she can remember with him for some reason, as his soft lips press against hers, a mild scratch of his mustache against her upper lip and the most content exhale she’s ever heard from him.

 

When his lips release her bottom one, he stays to press his forehead close, and the strain on her ankles is a distant annoyance. Now it’s all him and she’s over being afraid. She loves him, and she thinks the words should come out right about now.

 

“I love you.” His voice breaks before hers can.

 

_But wait, wait, wait._

 

She’s not sure if it’s stolen thunder or panic but the confidence to say it is nowhere to be found, and the strain on her ankles is more prominent now. She was breathing easy, peacefully even just a second ago and now her lungs won’t work right and her eyes start to sting. She has no idea what the hell is happening.

 

She knows she loves him, that’s the thing. She knows it, but more so, she knows he loves her without a doubt in her mind.

 

“I know.”

 

It flies out of her mouth like she thinks she’s Han Solo and can get away with saying things like that to a man who still cleans his wounds from hurt that happened over a year ago. She was supposed to say it first, and maybe it’s the fear that he won’t truly believe her that’s got her messed up.

 

“Well, as long as you know.” His smile looks a lot like a grimace now as he pulls away and avoids her eyes completely. “I should be back to work. I’ll see you tonight then?”

 

“Thanks for taking a break for me,” her feet are now firmly planted on the ground as he’s already pulled back from her. She’d love to just go back two seconds where her head was in the clouds and she was braver than this. “I really missed you.”

 

“Likewise,” he mumbles, clearing the food from the desk and tying it up in the trash bag lining his trash can. “Do you want to trade me keys now?”

 

“Keys?”

 

“You are still picking up Ellie for me, aren’t you?” he turns to her with a little worry, like she’s a cancelled babysitter or something.

 

“For us, yeah. I’m picking up Ellie for us.”

 

“Sure, you’re going to take my car then?”

 

“No. If I didn’t come here with lunch, I wouldn’t have taken your car.”

 

“But you did come here,” he replies, “And you would have to get her car seat either way. She’s under the weight limit to ride without one, Emma.”

 

“Fine, follow me downstairs and help me move the car seat.”

 

“That’s ridiculous, Love. Why can’t you just take my car?”

 

“Because it’s my breadcrumbs, okay? I want to be me and that is the only thing I have left of who I am, who I was,” she answers honestly.

 

“I’m not ready for her to ride in your car,” he answers honestly, too. Honesty in relationships is supposed to be good, but his truths always sting. “Surely you can understand not being ready for something. I don’t trust your car and I don’t feel comfortable with either of you in it, but I can’t tell you what to do. I can tell Ellie, though. She’s not riding in your car.”

 

She was ready. Very ready, and now she’s just ready to tell him off. 

 

“Fine. Give me your stupid keys.”

 

-/-

 

He promised to be home by six. It’s nine and she has to put Ellie down, but she has to calm down first because she’s furious.

 

“Emma, are you sleepy?” They’re lying on the couch, Ellie in the small space between Emma and the back cushions. She’s letting Ellie tell the baby about her week and just enjoying the quiet time. She’s hardly let her hands slip from the belly since Emma picked her up from school hours ago. She knows it’s nothing to complain over, really, she should be cheering because Ellie could still be angry, and instead she’s ecstatic.

 

“Are you?” Because the cheerful tone of voice Ellie was using has dwindled down into a softer, scratchy whisper.

 

“I asked you first,” Ellie giggles and a fraction of that chip falls from her shoulder. They’ve been lingering instead of putting her to bed like she knows she’s supposed to, but she can’t help but feel guilty. She was hyping Ellie up all afternoon about Killian being home for dinner.

 

Ellie says it’s okay. She understands he’s very busy. Still, she got into this mindset that family was most important to him, and believing anything else just won’t do.

 

“Bug, why don’t we go start our story?”

 

“Okay,” Ellie agrees, taking special care when climbing over Emma to avoid pressing against her tummy. “I missed you and my baby sister so much.”

 

“We missed you more,” Emma promises. “But we’re here now.”

 

“And you’re not going away again?”

 

“Well—”

 

She’s cut off by the sound of the lock clicking.

 

“He’s home!” Ellie shouts, not even trying to whisper, just a thrilled little squeal as she dances on her toes like it’s Santa and not her uncle.

 

“And you’re not in bed,” Emma reminds her.

 

“Hey,” He’s through the door seconds later watching her with remorse before his eyes drop to Ellie. “Is that my Love Bug?”  


“Yes!” She takes off running, ready to tackle him when he catches her in his arms and tosses her up to hold tight. “I missed you so so much.”

 

“I missed you so much. I’ve barely seen you all week, my queen.”

 

“You’re home now, and it’s bedtime but maybe I could talk to you for only a little while?”

 

“Maybe. Maybe I could tell you the longest story I know?”

 

“Yes!” She wiggles in his arms with excitement. Ellie, the kid who was just falling asleep against her, is now full of life.

 

And Emma’s full of questions. Like, why the hell is he so late? Or, does he think breaking promises is okay?

 

Emma decides to let him tell her the story alone tonight. She’d rather not darken the atmosphere with the way she feels right now. Ellie hugs her goodnight and makes her promise to be there tomorrow, and the fact that’s even necessary hurts almost as much as being away from her for a week.

 

“I love you, and I love my baby sister,” Ellie promises, kissing the belly and then kissing Emma.

 

“I love you more, Ellie. Goodnight.”

 

“Night night.”

 

-/-

 

“But the air was laced with magic, it was dripping everywhere. The old pirate had arrived, ready to face the crocodile that took his hand, but this land was not what he thought.”

 

“Why not?” Ellie doesn’t seem to be even close to falling asleep, watching him with so much enthusiasm, as she’s curled in his arms. He never thought himself a hero, but she catches him off guard sometimes, with her twinkling eyes and bright smiles. She catches him off his game and he feels like Superman, having just saved a day and receiving his praise in the form of her adoring ways.

 

So, in some ways it’s true what he told Emma. He didn’t find who he wanted to be until he found himself with Ellie in his care, telling her these fairytales nightly that make her look at him like he’s a hero off the storybook page.

 

He wants to be a father, a family man.

 

“Well, the sorceress promised a land without magic, a land that would even the playing field, but this land had more magic than the last. It worked much differently there, too. It was much too unpredictable.”

 

“Like how?”

 

“Well, the crocodile for example. He looked like a normal man, but he was still very terrible.”

 

“Did the pirate find a way to get him?”

 

“They spend a lot of time going back and forth trying to get each other, but the magic of this land never lets either of them win. And ‘til this day, my dear queen, they have to live in harmony, not a rivalry.”

 

“So they’re friends?”

 

“No, not quite. Just neighbors, I suppose.”

 

“Like Belle and us?”

 

“No, Belle is a friend, for certain.”

 

“Yeah, I love her. When we move houses will we still see her a lot?”

 

“I’ll definitely try,” he presses a kiss just between her eyes, causing them to flutter shut. “If you’ll try to sleep now.”

 

“The story is all gone?”

 

“Yup, no more of that one tonight. Maybe later down the road.” He brushes his knuckle down her nose, forcing her to blink again, longer, slower now. He knows with every time her lashes touch her cheeks, her eyelids get heavier to hold open.

 

“My baby sister is gonna love your stories too, Uncle Kilo. She’s gonna be so happy that you’re her daddy.”

 

“Are you happy?”

 

“Yeah, Emma says even though I call you Uncle Kilo, you’re still my daddy, and that makes me happy. And she’s still my mommy, even if she doesn’t live with us right now. She will soon, she says she wants to but she still has to talk to you.”

 

“She said all that…tonight?” Before Ellie can answer, she yawns ferociously, like a little cub.

 

“Yup,” she nods, smacking her lips softly as her eyes flutter another few times. “I’m so sleepy now.”

 

“Ah, I can tell. Goodnight my queen, I love you with every star in our galaxy.”

 

“I love you more than that. I do,” she promises, kissing his hand and nuzzling deep into her pillow. “Night.”

 

“Night.”

 

-/-

 

She has her hair fanned against both her and his own pillowcase the way it always does, coating the scent of her honey shampoo into the fabric. The room looks like she’s been in it for weeks, with a few of her things unpacked and laying around. He knows she thinks it drives him crazy, and it does, just not as negatively as she chooses to believe. It drives him wild to see their things mingling like this is _their_ bedroom.

 

“Are you asleep?” he whispers, and she shakes her head, still facing the open window case. The moon is all illuminating, and he can see the freckles on her shoulders peeking through the tank top she’s worn to bed. “Are you upset?”

 

“A little. I was furious before, but you and Ellie together always get me,” she huffs, tossing herself to face him. He stands at least three feet away from the bed, hesitant to move any closer incase she’s unhappy with him.

 

“Furious? That’s awfully intense, Love. Care to elaborate?”

 

“Do you?” she fires back, raising an eyebrow. “You said you’d be home by six, Killian. I hyped her up all day. I made dinner.”

 

“Mmm, what’d you make?”  


“I’m not five. Do not distract me like you do Ellie. Tell me why you didn’t come home.” He sighs, beginning to undress for bed, and Emma glances away from him after his dress shirt and under shirt are tossed to the corner chair. He drops his trousers, toeing off his socks, and tosses them in the hamper in the corner of the room. She keeps her eyes fixed on the ceiling and he has to stifle a laugh from slipping out.

 

“I had every intention, Emma,” he slips into bed beside her, tossing his arm over her waist and rolling her back to face him. He slows his hand to smooth across the expanse of her stomach, reveling in the reality that their child is growing just beneath. “To be honest, I left the office at four.”

 

“Four?” Her beautiful eyes widening as she echoes him. “Are you having an affair or something?”

 

“Yeah, the type that I outright tell you about as I’m holding my hand to our unborn child in bed.” She rolls her eyes playfully, and he’s thankful she’s only joking. She knows he loves her. There’s no one else in this world. “You do realize I’m utterly obsessed with you?”

 

“Usually, but not since I left Sunday,” her frown is short-lived. She’s trying not to dwell on the days they went without speaking. He’s trying not to dwell on her not wanting to live with them. “Just tell me what you did for five hours.”

 

“I called in a favor from my mechanic.” He exhales while the breath still comes easy, because he has already made an educated guess that she won’t be happy. Her distrusting eyes are only confirming it. “I had just planned on getting you a new battery, maybe a tune up and oil change, but I know how important that rickety car is to you. I know how important you are to me, so I got carried away.”

 

“Killian B Jones.”

 

“B?”

 

“You keep it a secret, but let me tell you what’s not a secret, buddy, how much I don’t want you to financially take care of me. You want to give me a foot massage, or that really amazing thing you do with—I’m getting side tracked. The point is, we definitely talked about this. You know I can’t afford all that right now.”

 

“Yes, I know that. And I didn’t do it for you to pay me back. I didn’t even do it for you. I did it for Ellie, and the baby and my own peace of mind. I also bought a second car seat and it’s all set up. The next time you and Ellie are ready to go somewhere, you two can just go.” She softens, with a gentle nod, but her eyes are still storming with an emotion he can’t place. “Hey? Love, please don’t be—”

 

“I love you,” It comes out a little panicked like the moment will slip away if she doesn’t rush through. “Fuck. I uhm—I really was going to tell you earlier, but you beat me to it. I said ‘I know’ but I meant—I meant that I love you. I really do love you.”

 

“And I you,” he isn’t certain whether he’s grinning like a fool or not, because he honestly can’t feel his face. Paired against the swelling in his chest and the swarming rushing in his gut he doesn’t feel anything else. Well, he feels this desperate need to kiss her.

 

She looks just as desperate with her arm wrapping around his neck and anchoring her to him.

 

He’s not sure who reaches the other first, but they come together and he can feel electricity the moment their lips touch. She’s his and it shows when she relinquishes dominance and lets him guide them along. He covers her mouth with his, just so eager to prove to her that he will always be hers. Maybe it’s a little frenzied, like he’s afraid she’ll change her mind midway through, so he only pulls away for air a second at a time before diving back in, guiding her lips to open and marking her tongue with the words just on the tip of his. He hopes as they tangle, he conveys love and respect. He hopes she understands with every fiber of her being, not just her mind and her heart, that he truly loves her.

 

-/-

 

She finds the words weigh less when they’re in the air and not on her shoulders. Now he knows and nothing else matters. It feels like nothing else can hurt them from here on out. Maybe it’s the clarity she needed, because when they break apart after losing herself in him, she sees him with brand new eyes.

 

He looks a lot more like the future, but there’s pieces of her past coming back to surround the idea of him.

 

“I told Ellie something earlier, did she mention it?” He’s still grinning like an idiot, completely unfazed by anything. He nods gently, taking strands of her hair and twirling them around his fingers. “Well, I was thinking after I left your office. I was thinking about what I said about dreams as a kid, and I was talking to Ellie about her dreams.”

 

“She has so many.”

 

“Yeah, she does. Her newest one about being the boss at a business with her baby sister is the cutest though. Just like you and Liam, she says.” Emma can remember her serious, self-assured tone and she prays no one ever makes that kid lose her confidence. “She’s so sure this baby is going to be a girl, I’m crossing my fingers for one now, too.”

 

“She doesn’t care if it’s a boy,” Killian replies lowly, sleep sneaking into his voice the way that makes her heartbeat rise. She loves when his timber drops, and anything above a whisper gets raspy. “What are your dreams, Swan?”

 

“Having a home, with a family that loves me,” her eyes water at the realization that she’s almost there. “That’s all I remember wishing for and I just want to get that and give that.”

 

“Are you saying—”

 

“If you’re still asking,” she thought he couldn’t look happier before, but he proves her wrong. His smirk widens with something almost giddy. She can feel this new idea dawning, from the way her stomach flips, or her heart clenches; making Killian Jones happy is one of her favorite pastimes. She never thought love could reward her like this.

 

“I want nothing more.”

 


	13. Happiness Protected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this! Thanks for leaving comments and kudos and thanks to RavenclawPianist for being a wonderful beta!

**Happiness Protected**

 

“I love you.” He whispers beside her jaw, when he comes through the kitchen after dinner.

 

Little notes, light touches, warm embraces.

 

Dates, Make-out sessions, romantic comedies on the couch that lead to imitating X-rated scenes in the bedroom.

 

Safe, secure, content.

 

Life living with Killian Jones has been full of all of these and more. She wakes up feeling better and better each sunrise, and she knows why. He knows why, hell the whole world surrounding their lives now knows why.

 

“I love you too,” she replies turning her head to catch his lips. The hand lightly grazing her hip turns a bit forceful, gripping at her now, and pulling her closer to him.

 

“Dinner Party Etiquette 101, don’t grope each other in front of your guests.” They break apart laughing, at the sound of David’s intrusion. “Also, when you say you’re getting dessert—”

 

“David!” Mary Margaret scolds from the sofa where she and Belle sit talking. “Leave them alone.”

 

“Dessert is on it’s way, mate, but you get none for talking Ellie into begging for a dog.” Last week they had dinner with the Nolan’s and Emma had to run mid-meal interference because Ellie had managed to slip the dogs her entire meal, and half of the rolls on the table.

 

Suffice to say, Ellie spent the next seven or so days coming up with rhyming names for her future dog and baby ‘sister.’

 

“You’re getting a new house; a dog comes with the territory,” David smirks, pressing himself off of the quartz counter and launching himself back into the conversation.

 

“I think they’re cute,” Belle beams brightly at Emma as she rounds the counter with a coconut cream pie in her hands, while Killian follows with plates and a pie server. “And I think I’m as excited as Ellie to meet baby Jones.”

 

“You mean Ellie’s ‘baby sister?’” Ruby teases “Because baby girl just knows she’s getting a sister.”

 

“I know, we’re secretly crossing our fingers for a girl, if for nothing else, so we don’t let her down,” Emma laughs.

 

“She won’t care either way,” Killian reminds her, his hand smoothing over the expanse of her back as she bends to cut the pie.

“Knowing Eloise, I’m sure she’ll be happy either way,” Robin seconds, smiling at his business partner. “I overheard her talking to Roland about it. She says if it’s a boy, you’re naming him Jake or Prince Eric.”

 

“No, we’re not,” Killian shuts down. “We’re not naming our child after Disney characters.”

 

“Eric and Ellie do sound adorable together,” Mary Margaret chuckles. “Do you have any names you’d like to use? Boy or girl?”

 

“We actually haven’t opened that discussion until we can narrow it down but I do have some ‘gender neutral’ ideas,” Emma shrugs when she gets a raised brow from her boyfriend. “I always liked those names you can use for anyone, like Jordan, or Kyle.”

 

“Those are traditionally masculine though, aren’t they?” Robin asks and don’t get her wrong, Robin is a very sweet man, but he has the tendency to condescend without trying. She bites her tongue and schools her features before replying.

 

“You named your son ‘Roland’ which is not the most common of names, mate,” Killian challenges, beating her to the punch. Anytime Robin voices an opinion, Killian challenges it like some defiant teenager.

 

“It’s an adaptation of Orlando, which pays homage to my great Uncle Orlando Von Tr—”

 

“Right. Well, lucky for you, he’s handsome.”

 

“I like Roland’s name,” Belle defends. “I think names are fascinating, honestly. Whenever we have new authors, our editors always ask them to explain their choices in names for characters because we want the story to be told on many levels. I believe what you name a child begins their story chapters ahead if you pick it for the right reasons.”

 

“Excellent point, Belle,” Robin smirks stupidly at Killian. “Have you even considered naming him after—”

 

“No,” Killian says cut and dry. “No, that’s not an option. And if we all remember correctly, Ellie predicts it will be a girl anyhow.”

  
“Do you know why they chose Ellie?” David quickly picks up, moving the conversation on from one reminiscent place to a slightly less painful second.

 

“Mademoiselle Eloise,” Killian pronounces with a very sexy, very unexpected French accent. “She was Elsa’s tutor before her parents shipwrecked in transit back to where the girls were staying in France. She was very influential and Elsa thanks her for their survival.”

 

“What a wondrous, sad, but touching history,” Belle’s eyes are lit with so much interest, while the rest of the room looks down at their plates in discomfort. “I can almost see it, the diplomatic and generous nature they’ve instilled in Ellie, with just a name.”

 

“I didn’t know that story,” Emma turns to Killian, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling him closer. She doesn’t know any stories about Elsa, actually. Nothing before she met Liam. And even still, there’s very few details she can actually say belong to just Elsa’s history. “Where did your name come from?”

 

“I… Well, you know, I’m not sure,” he scratches behind his ear, smiling that self-depreciating smile that makes her heart ache.

 

“It’s okay. I don’t know why I’m ‘Emma’ either,” Other than a baby blanket, she’s not sure anyone ever wanted her to exist, but here she is.

 

“That’s why we’re such a good fit,” Because here he is too, pressing a kiss to her hair and making it feel quite alright that her past is a mystery. Their future isn’t.

 

They talk a bit more about names, the seven of them. Ruby was named after her mother’s birthstone, Mary Margaret was named after the nuns her mother favored most in school, David was named after his great grandfather on his mother’s side who walked her to school everyday for a year after she told him she was afraid to walk alone. Robin was named after the bird. His mother was obsessed with them. Belle was named after Queen Isabella of France. Her father thought it hilarious to name each of his children after French royalty because his last name is ‘French.’ She has a sister named Joan and a brother, Philippe who live on the West Coast.

 

She almost adds how she considered naming Henry ‘Wes’ because of her favorite movie as a little girl, but remembers no one knows about Henry but Killian, and sometimes she thinks even mentioning it makes having a child with her look like a bad idea.

 

He’s still this big dark cloud hovering, and maybe it’s not like it was before. Maybe the secret is out and it can’t break them apart like secrets do, but it’s still there, when she rubs her own hand over her stomach and remembers the time she’d tell herself not to consider any names, because this child isn’t hers to name.

 

Only _this_ child is. This kid is hers to name, and love and provide for. And that’s what feels darkest about it all. Because why now, and how is that fair to him?

 

“Love?” he’s still standing beside her, still holding her, but he feels so far away when the clouds roll in. “Where’d you go?”

 

“Nowhere,” she grins, the fakest grin she’s got. And if he sees right through her, he’s too considerate of their surroundings to act on it. He smiles one right back, kissing her lips this time before breaking away to grab his own slice of pie.

This is the life he wants after all. He loves the idea of being the couple who host dinner parties, and laugh with friends over pie, and are just so crazy in love, living their lives under a spotless sky.

 

And maybe she is crazy enough in love to give him that, no matter what storm she’s keeping inside.

 

-/-

 

“Em—mahhh?” Ellie’s voice sings in her ear, accompanied by warm breath that smells vaguely like Nutella.

 

“Bug?” Emma groans, tossing herself into Ellie’s awaiting arms.

 

“Are you so escited?” She whispers, pressing her forehead to Emma’s and before Emma gets the chance to open her eyes, they’re being partially butterfly-kissed by Ellie’s lashes. The symmetry is off a bit, but the love is there, and it’s one of the best ways to be woken. “We get to look at houses today and maybe dogs.”

 

“No, not dogs,” Killian’s voice dismisses from feet away. “Don’t go on getting your hopes up, we’re just looking at houses.”

 

“Dogs later,” Emma whispers back with open eyes, sealing the promise with a kiss to Ellie’s cheek. “D’you eat breakfast already?”

 

“Nutella toast and soy milk.” Ellie says with a nod. “Uncle Kilo will make you some if you get up.”

 

“Up? That’s no fun.”

 

“No crumbs in bed,” Killian recites before she hears his shoe-clad footsteps leaving the room.

 

“He’s so anal,” Ellie rolls her eyes and Emma chokes on spit.

 

“WHAT?”

 

“That’s what you call him when he gets bossy?”

 

And there’s no way Killian is going to find it funny, but Emma can’t help the laughter bubbling from beneath the baby straight up and out of her mouth. “No-ho-ho, Ellie. Don’t say that.”

 

“Doesn’t it mean bossy?”

 

“No, it means very uhm… precise and if things aren’t exactly right, then he gets a bit snippy. It’s not a great way to say it though, and I really shouldn’t call him that.”

 

“He doesn’t get mad when you do.”

 

“That’s because he knows he is. But it doesn’t mean you should go around calling people out on the things that they are, it’s their own flaw to see.”

 

“A flaw is something bad about you, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Uncle Kilo’s flaw is he is bossy and does not like PUPPIES!”  Ellie yells the last part toward the living room, although Emma knows he has super sonic hearing with his little elf ears, so they really could have whispered it and he would still hear. Ellie starts cracking up when Killian’s footsteps draw near again.

 

“I like puppies just fine when they’re not my responsibility,” Killian corrects, moving quickly around the bed to launch a tickle assault on Ellie’s ribs. She starts screaming in laughter and tossing about. Emma has to back away before she gets a stray knee to her belly, but the noise surrounds her in bliss anyhow. “You, however, are my responsibility and I like you even more.” He bends down and blows raspberries on her cheeks and bare arms until she squeals.

 

“Nooo!” and when he stops, she’s got her hand cupping his jaw, and tries to do the same to his cheek but just ends up drooling on it. And for as anal as he is, he just beams down at her with a smile that crinkles his eyes and tells of true love.

 

Not even the movies she watches or the books she’s read tell of anything as pure and perfect. Her heart is thrumming for two reasons now; she knows her eyes light up the same way looking at the both of them, and the way he loves Ellie gives her comfort for even a minute about someone out their being capable of loving Henry as fiercely.

 

If she’s being truly honest, her fear isn’t that they’ll love this baby more, it’s that they won’t love it nearly as much. Until now, she didn’t know love like this truly existed.

 

-/-

 

“Is this beauty ‘Eloise?’” Ingrid is waiting at a table on the outside patio of the coffee shop she suggested they meet at. Ellie tightens her grip on his hand when Ingrid rises to greet them. “You’re just as perfect as Emma described.”

 

“Thank you,” Ellie whispers, hiding her face against his hip. If there’s something she’s not, it’s shy. He scoops her up into his arms as Emma falls beside them, running a soothing hand down her back. She must have caught on to the same shyness he has.

 

“Love bug, this is Ingrid, she’s going to help us find a house.”

 

“Okay,” Ellie nods before burying her face in his neck.

 

“Ellie?” he whispers, against her warm cheek, the sun already flushing her skin. “What’s going on? Why are you so shy? You’re a queen now, Love.”

 

“She looks like my mom only bigger,” Ellie loudly ‘whispers’ back. He takes a second to understand, because Ingrid isn’t above average for Ellie to mention her size. “Like her mommy.” Ellie elaborates, and it clicks. He thought the same thing. Their eyes shade similarly, with flecks of white and silver, and their hair is that light, near-white, color instead of the sunshine-y blonde Ellie and Emma share.

 

“They do look like they could be related if you’re going off the picture above your dresser.”

 

“Yeah, that one with Aunnie Anna,” Ellie brushes her face against his as she turns back around to look at Ingrid. “You look kinda like my mommy. Not my Emma-mommy but my other mommy that went away.”

 

“Oh. I see,” Ingrid smiles sadly at Ellie. “It’s tough when we see people that remind us of other people we can’t see anymore, huh?” Ingrid’s eyes flicker across Emma’s face momentarily before returning back to Ellie.

 

“It made my tummy feel weird,” Ellie nods with a frown. “But I think you’re pretty and nice.”

 

“Well thank you,” Ingrid moves closer to take Ellie’s hand, bowing before it like she’s royalty. “You’re such a kind queen, so beautiful and sweet.” Ellie giggles and all the sad feelings have seemed to slip away.

 

“Can you find us a house where my sister is close to my room?”

 

“I’m most certain I can.”

 

“Oh, and no carpet ‘cause we’re getting a doggy and Uncle Kilo thinks the dog will potty on it.”

 

He starts to correct her, but she just brought herself back from a sad spot and if thinking of dogs and baby sisters keeps her happy, he’s for it. _Pick your battles._

“Why don’t we sit down and all discuss what we’re looking for and I’ll talk you up about a few houses I think may work from my last conversation with Killian?”

 

“Okay,” Queen Eloise answers for the group.

 

Shortly after ordering, the barista brings Emma and Ellie this shop’s version of iced hot cocoa with cinnamon, which he’d assume is just chocolate milk but turns out is a serious concoction he’s not sure Ellie should have this early in the day, and his iced chai. They start discussing the type of home they’re looking for.

 

“Now, I know you said you like clean lines and no carpet,” Ingrid begins, smiling at Killian, “and of course, Ellie has put in the demand for a nursery nearby her room, but I’m interested in what you want, Emma.”

 

He is too. Every time he asks the question, she changes subject and he lets her because he feels like it’s a dream she’s even agreed to moving in with him. Emma’s face falls for a second before dawning this polite little look, like she’s a 60’s housewife with no voice.

 

“Whatever Killian wants.”

 

“Swan?”

 

“Babe, it’s your house. I’m not storming in and making demands on your house.” She sips her drink to stop from discussing further, but this is their future and of course further bloody discussion is necessary.

 

“It’s our house,” he reminds her, and Ellie nods quickly to agree.

 

“Yeah, Emma. It’s our house.”

 

“I just want… I just want a big sink and room for a Christmas tree,” she smiles once more, and with each curve of her lips, another crack in the façade is revealed. Maybe she really doesn’t want to live with them, maybe he threw enough fits to get his damned way and she’s not interested in the dream he’s selling.

 

“That’s acceptable for Ellie to request, but I do expect a little more from you, Swan.” Emma rolls her neck and looks him square in the eye now.

 

“I like fixer uppers. I want something I can put a little sweat equity into. I want to get my hands dirty and walk into the finished product knowing I helped to make this home for us.” She expresses sternly. “That’s what I want. But you hate a mess, and I’m going to just get more and more pregnant, so no. I want what you want.”

 

“Love?”

 

“Killian, please.”

 

“No. I don’t want to wake up and find you devastated that you’re in a house that doesn’t feel like your own. Do you think doing that, renovation and whatnot, do you think it makes up for what you can’t contribute financially? Will it make you feel better? Does it heighten my chances that you’ll stay?” Her eyes widen along with the other two blondes at the table.

 

“I’ll stay no matter what. I told you that,” she scolds like he’s making up these fears from an imaginary headspace, like she’s never left him.

 

“I want a project,” he turns and tells Ingrid without dignifying Emma with a response. “Nothing extensive, my sister and her husband are coming home for a couple months in late November. I want to close in 30 days, and start on small projects Emma can spearhead. I want that. And I really, really need an in-law suite for them. Emma hasn’t ever met Anna or Kris and I don’t want to throw them down the hall from her. I was thinking converted income property, maybe a basement we could finish while we live on the main floor?”

 

“Oh…right, you…” And bless the woman for trying to gather her bearings after witnessing something as awful as a break in their bliss but he knew it’d come sooner or later. “I remember you mentioning your sister and brother-in-law. I have a couple properties lined up that have space that may work for them. I just, with the budget you gave me, I found mainly turn-key properties.” Ingrid grabs her binder and flips through a few pages quickly as Ellie keeps watch on him from across the table.

 

“You’re being anal,” Ellie says with narrowed eyes and her bottom lip tucked into her mouth.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Ellie.” Emma hushes. “I said that’s not a good thing to say.”

 

“It’s not a good way to act neither,” Ellie replies quickly to Emma before turning to Ingrid. “Sorry Misses Ingrid, I don’t always say not nice words.”

 

“Of course not,” Ingrid chuckles to herself as she continues flipping through the pages of her binder, and Killian takes his time to adjust to the fact that Ellie is very protective over Emma, and he should encourage that. Maybe he can’t see that he’s upset her and Ellie can.

 

Maybe he should pick his battles with both of them.

 

“You’re right. Use a different word next time to express that, but you’re right. I’m being bossy, and a little snippy.”

 

“Okay,” Ellie agrees. “Are we gonna have a backyard?”

 

“Yes,” Ingrid answers for Ellie. “One that is ‘big enough to camp in’” she recites from their previous conversation.

 

“Good. My uncle Robin and Roland like to camp.”

“Oh good,” Ingrid brushes Ellie’s hand with her own before turning to Killian. “I’ll be right back, let me just call to check in on a couple properties and we should be off to see a few, okay?”

 

“Great. Thanks again, Ingrid.”

 

“It’s my pleasure, really,” she moves away from the table toward the other corner of the patio and presses the phone to her ear. He hesitates when it comes to addressing the ladies still remaining at the table. Ellie starts first.

 

“I’m sorry I said a bad word.”

 

“I’m sorry I was behaving poorly.”

 

“I’m sorry I—”

 

“No, Emma, you don’t say sorry.” Ellie interrupts. “You’re not being bad. Only me and Uncle Kilo.”

 

“Ellie…” Emma sighs, reaching her arms out and pulling Ellie from her chair to Emma’s lap. It’s probably a poor choice for her to do in her condition, but he’s not going to dig a deeper hole for himself.

 

He suspects they’ll have words when all is said and done and they go home tonight. As long as she still calls ‘home’ wherever he is, he’ll deal.

 

“No one is being bad,” Emma continues. “You don’t have to defend me either, Ellie. If I get mad at Uncle Kilo, I’ll let him know.”

 

“But you have a baby in your belly and…” Ellie rubs at her cheek with irritation. “People have to be really nice to mommies who have babies.”

 

“You don’t think Uncle Kilo is nice to me?”

 

“Yeah, he is,” Ellie drops her head back sighing at the sky. “I don’t wanna talk anymore.”

 

“Ellie?”

 

“No, I don’t wanna talk anymore. You and Uncle Kilo talk, not me,” she starts to climb from Emma’s lap moving to get back in her own chair and sip her drink with her back facing them. Emma turns to him with a slighted frown.

 

“I just want to make a home for you,” he whispers, reaching his hand out toward her. She takes it without thought. “I just want you to stay.”

 

“I’m staying, whether we live in a studio apartment with two kids and a dog, or a mansion. I’m in too deep now to leave.”

 

“But will you be happy?”

 

“With you, yes.” She removes her hand from his to scoot her chair forward, reaching back for him the second she’s close enough to lean in. “I love you and you make me feel safe and happy. I just want you to realize that I’m here because of you, not because of the house you’ll buy me.”

 

“I know that, Emma.” He knows he’s said things in the past, but he never meant to insinuate she was a ‘gold-digger.’ She’s much too independent for that. And if she was, if it was about money, he’d give it all to her to keep her around anyway.

 

“She said there was a budget you two discussed?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What is it? Is it so high only turn-key homes fit in it?”

 

“Emma, don’t.”

 

“Killian, I don’t want you to break the bank on a house for four.”

 

“Five.” Ellie turns back around. “We’re getting a dog.”  


“Oh, I’m sorry, are you talking to us now?” He smirks at her and she bites down on the grin her lips are forming. Her eyes are playful like she wants to laugh, and he knows her well enough to know she breaks easily when he’s smug or silly about something she’s meant to be angry over. The day he loses his relationship with her is a day he loses pieces of himself. For now, she’s still his little girl who smiles at his knowing smirks.

 

“Shh,” she hushes. “Just don’t forget the doggy.” And then she turns back from them, hiding her grin behind her palm.

 

“Alright, I have three homes to show you today, I’m waiting on word back from a fourth, but I’m almost certain we can find one for you, if not today, by week’s end.” Ingrid sweeps in before he and Emma can continue on with a talk of budget. “Do you want to take my car?”

 

“I have Ellie’s car seat, perhaps we should follow you.”

 

-/-

 

The first house was gorgeous, cape cod style that felt homey the moment she walked in. Ellie says she likes more windows though and Killian thought the kitchen was too small, and he likes a more open concept. Emma just wants a home, so listening to these two critique something that looks like nothing she’s ever had only thickens her insecurity with the life he’s offering her.

The second home was huge and colonial. He’s afraid of the updates that need to be made to the electric and plumbing, but she’s just worried he’ll never be satisfied with anything. He says the columns are nice, but he wants to look at something a bit more modern.

 

Ingrid warns that the next home may be it then, because she scheduled a viewing of a mid-century modern with an attached three car garage. It’s outside of Ellie’s school district and doesn’t come with a designated in-law suite. The basement is unfinished, like he just recently requested for Emma’s desire to have some sweat equity, but Killian thinks the project is just too big for a pregnant woman to take on.

 

Then the call comes in. The fourth home she was waiting for has agreed to have the owners out of the house so they could come view it.

 

Killian and Ellie agree that it’s perfect. It’s a ranch-style with acreage but only 10 minutes from the ideal neighborhood they’d have to be in for Ellie’s school. Killian thinks he can get the variance if Emma doesn’t mind driving the extra ten minutes on days when she’s the one to pick her up.

 

Ingrid says it’s a steal. There is a three-car garage with a long drive way. The basement has walls and plumbing already. Killian wants to move the laundry to the main floor, since he’s the one who does it but asked if Emma thinks she can come up with a great idea of where to put it. She feels included in this, which is nice, but the house itself doesn’t look like theirs.

 

The kitchen needs to be renovated. The walls need to be painted, the walls are already knocked down, so it’s open concept, but the hardwood needs to be refinished and there’s carpet in the bedrooms.

 

“There’s hardwood beneath.” Ingrid explains when Ellie voices concern that Killian won’t let them get the dog.

 

“Maybe we could get a doggy door like Mr. and Mrs. Nolan have?”

 

“Maybe, if we get a dog that is,” Killian chuckles but Ellie isn’t amused.

 

The room he thinks is best for Ellie is down the hall from them, and the nursery sits in between.

 

“I could line the hallway with nightlights,” Killian suggests when Emma comments on the long run after nightmares.

 

There’s a fourth bedroom and an office on the opposite side of the house. He suggests it’s a great place for Ellie to switch rooms to in the future. Killian is so convinced Ellie will turn into a teenager who wants nothing to do with them, it makes her wonder what kind of teenage girl Anna was and if that’s the example he’s going by.

 

There’s three and a half bathrooms, and they could still get one put in downstairs for a nice in-law unit. He likes that the only entrance to the basement is from the garage, says he likes the privacy it adds, and will only encourage Anna and Kris to come home more often.

 

She’s never realized just how family-focused he is, and how far that extends past just herself and Ellie. Every comment he makes is made based on how it will function for everyone. He likes having an office that he can use during paternity leave, he thinks he’ll take two months off, and she told him she’s pretty sure that’s longer than most maternity leaves.

 

All and all, he wants to put an offer in, start the process. He asks her if she thinks they could make it their own under the time limit. She doesn’t think it will be a problem. It’s a newer home and has most of the work already done. What he’s really asking is if she’ll stay, if this will be the home that makes her feel like this could work.

 

She already knows this could work. She stopped doubting them the day she told him she loved him for the first time, and the sky didn’t fall through. It’s not like before when a guy has told her that. She’s known long before that he loves her, and Ellie means more to her than anything. Giving either of them up isn’t an option, and hasn’t been for months.

 

She tells him it’s ‘the one’ and his chest swells at the sound.

 

Ingrid makes the ‘mistake’ of discussing the price in front of her and Killian moves with discomfort wafting off of him as she does.

 

“It’s going for nine-nine-five. She says. “Very much under budget, and to be honest, the kitchen is the only renovation, so I think we shouldn’t go much lower than that.”

 

“Has it, uh…has it been on the market long?” he scratches behind his ear, turning his shoulder from Emma so she can’t see his eyes.

 

“16 days.”

 

“Let’s do asking, all cash, no closing costs, out of escrow in 30 days. I want to have a truck in the driveway full of our things in 30 days.”

 

“I’m sure they’ll love that. Let’s go back to the office, put the offer in.”

 

“All cash?” Emma whispers when he’s buckling Ellie into her seat.

 

“Swan, stop,” he dismisses, pressing a kiss to Ellie’s cheek before backing up and shutting her door. No matter what, he always presses a kiss to her cheek before shutting the door like it’s second nature. The second the door is shut, she grabs his arm and turns him toward her.

 

“What was the budget?”

 

“More than asking.”

 

“Let me guess, I don’t deserve to know because I’m not paying for it?”

 

“No, God, Swan. You’re insecure about money, I just don’t want you to feel worse.”

 

“How much were you willing to spend?”

 

“If you loved the place? Anything, but the budget was 1.2 and I know that’s not going to help you sleep any better at night, so please, disregard the amount and get in the car.”

 

“1.2? 1.2 Million? Million Killian? Oh my Go—In cash?”

 

“My family’s wealth goes further than Jolly Roger. In less awkward spaces, I’ll share the tale with you, love. Please don’t do this here.”

 

It’s the pleading that gets her, and the promise of more of his history. So she gets in, and he lets out a sigh of relief, and they have more things to talk about than just money, but they found a house and she doesn’t have to fret over feeling stuffed in an apartment with a five-year-old, a new born and more likely than not, a dog.

 

-/-

 

“Well, twenty-four hours from now, we’ll know if we got the house.” The call from Ingrid came in a little late, Ellie’s been asleep for an hour, but now he’s off the phone and getting ready for bed, his hair sticking up on the sides, his eyes a little weary, and his shirt wrinkled from laying beside Ellie during story time.

 

“And if we didn’t?” She’s propped up in bed with pillows supporting her as she reads her weekly tidbits on the ‘What to Expect’ app. The appointment is the day after tomorrow and she wants to know what questions she should ask, and if its okay to have Ellie in the room the whole time, because it will just be Emma and Killian, and she doesn’t want Killian to leave her for a second during these appointments.

 

She likes having him there. He makes her feel safe, like she’s not 17 and the world outside the door isn’t full of cold and angry women just as devastated by the hand life dealt them.

 

“We will,” he smiles, removing his shirt and diving onto the bed next to her. He starts sliding his hands over her, kissing at her stomach, then her hand resting over it. He moves to kiss her arm, her shoulder, then her neck, but she’s pretty sure they’re not having sex tonight.

 

“That’s a fun idea, but I think you promised me a story,” he only slows his hands, doesn’t quite stop, his breath fluttering against the shell of her ear as he fiddles with her waistband. “Killian…”

 

“You want to hear about the princess and the pirate?” he nips at her ear. She fights for her annoyance, reaches out as far as she can to grab at the irritation she wished she felt, anything to resist the urge he brings along every time he touches her.

 

“I want to hear about your family.”

 

“ _You’re_ my family,” he chuckles with a deep timbre that gives her shivers. “My heart, my love, my…” his hand dips beneath her waist band, dragging the tips of his nails across her pelvic bone.

 

“Killian,” she breathes, much less stern-sounding than she wants right now. She can feel him grinning against her skin, smiling at how weak she is when it comes to him, and he’s barely even touched her.

 

“You’re so beautiful, and so fucking sexy when you can hardly speak,” she drops her chin, rolling her neck toward him and his stupid words. “I love you so bloody much, Emma.” She opens her eyes to spot him staring back at her with this mystic look in his eyes like love really is magic and he has the darkest kind.

 

“Will you tell me after?” she whispers, nudging his nose with her own, her mouth hovering over his as she tries her best to tease. He nods his reply, covering her mouth with his the second she raises that stupid white flag. His hand continues its descent and nothing else even matters.

 

It’s later, when the house is quiet and her breathing slows that she asks him. She has to fight to stay conscious but she asks him again, and he doesn’t hold it back.

 

“Diplomats.”

 

“You said aristocrats.”

 

“I don’t know the right word, darling. They weren’t exactly _my_ parents.”

 

“So they were royalty.”

 

“No, just as wealthy as royalty. They were also worldly. Elsa had items from every continent, hundreds of little cities you never knew existed. She knew six languages. Anyhow, when they died, she had to wait to inherit their wealth. She struggled like an orphaned street urchin, but still held herself with dignity.”

 

“Wait…” she turns in his hold, less room than she’s used to thanks to the baby, but she turns to face him, and realizes she doesn’t know if the moon will filter through the window of their new bedroom the same way it does now. She doesn’t want to miss these late night talks where the stars outside are reflected in his eyes. “Your brother was poor when they met too, wasn’t he?”

 

“Aye. They struggled less together, then Elsa turned 25 and received the wealth from her parents. It’s actually how Liam was able to start his company.”

 

“His wife paid for it all? He didn’t feel uncomfortable about that?”

 

“Funny thing about love, Swan, when it’s real, money isn’t power over your partner, it’s support.”

 

-/-

 

“Ellieeee” Emma sings in her ear, the same way she did to her a few days before. “Wake up, bug, we’re gonna go see the baby today.”

 

“My sister?” she yawns, turning into Emma’s arms.

 

“We’ll see for sure,” her eyes flutter open slowly, focusing almost intimidatingly at Emma. “You cranky?”

 

“No, I just want her to come outside already. How much longer is she in there?”

 

“We got a way to go, kid.”

 

“Christmas?”

 

“Little later.”

 

“I want her to be with us for Christmas,” Ellie pouts, nuzzling closer into Emma’s embrace. “We will be in the new house for Christmas.”

 

“We sure will.”

 

“We can get an extra big tree, and a stocking for her?”

 

“I don’t see why not. As long as we pick a name by then.”

 

“And a stocking for our doggy?”

 

“Nope,” Killian enters the room unannounced and unrelenting in this canine battle. She really doesn’t know who he thinks he’s kidding. He knows damn well they’re getting a dog. Ellie wasn’t the only one playing with David and Mary Margaret’s dogs last weekend.

 

“Uncle Kilo, it’s not a funny joke now,” Ellie pops up beside Emma scowling at him. “Now you are just making me mad at you.”

 

“At me?” he gasps this faux shock-like thing, with a dramatic hand covering his heart. “That seems unfair.”

 

“No, it does not,” Ellie shakes her head just as dramatically. “You are unfair and you are just teasing me, but I want you to stop.” She points a very stern finger at him, and his stupid little act crumbles.

 

“Okay, I’ll stop,” he pouts. “Of course we’ll get a dog, Love Bug, but you have to do a lot more than just pet him, you know?”

 

“I am a big girl now, I’m five!” Ellie reminds him, sleep completely gone from her now. “I will feed him and love him and make sure he goes potty and all of that.”

 

“And give him baths?” He’s standing beside where Emma sits now, reaching for Ellie and she climbs onto him without thought as they continue their conversation. Emma turns to watch them move around the room

 

“Yeah, I love baths,” she adds as he walks her around the room gathering an outfit for her to wear today. “And Mr. Nolan says it’s better for us to have big dogs instead of little ones, and I want a huge one.”

 

“Yeah? How big?”

 

“Huge,” she says again like she didn’t just use that word as a description.

 

“I don’t know, what about your baby sister?”

 

“He will protect her. He will protect us both when we are scared.” Ellie is so animated over this dog, describing these scenarios where they’d need to be protected, going on about how if there’s a chance the heater doesn’t work, he will be able to keep them warm with his fur and big body. Killian just eats it up as he helps her dress for the day and Emma is too transfixed to move.

 

She keeps waiting for the day she doesn’t watch them in awe. She knows they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her, but when she sees them functioning the way they had for a year before her, she wonders if she’s really adding much to their already flawless dynamic.

 

“Do you want to ask Emma to do your hair while I start breakfast?” Braids are really the only contribution she makes to their morning routine. She still can’t cook well and has a hard enough time finding something for herself to wear.

 

“The baby wants a bear claw from Granny’s,” Ellie whispers in her special way, filtering across the room. “She loves those,” Killian looks over his shoulder at her and she shrugs in response to the question in his eyes.

 

“Okay, Granny’s it is,” he turns back to Ellie, pecking at her nose before picking her up bringing her back to Emma. “We’ll leave once you finish?”

 

“Okay,” Emma nods, running her hands through Ellie’s tangles. “Can you toss me the brush from the bathroom?” Ellie’s hair grows thicker everyday, and more curled which has Emma completely baffled because the pictures in the frames on the mantle show Elsa with stick-straight hair and Liam with short, well-kept hair. When he comes back with the brush, he leaves Emma with a kiss and two elastics she forgot to ask for. “Did your brother have curly hair?”

 

“Aye, he kept it short when he became a suit, but yes, very curly.” Instead of doing whatever weird rituals he does in the morning when she’s getting ready, he takes a seat beside them on Ellie’s bed, rubbing his hand in a circular motion over Emma’s lower back.

 

She’s tried to keep the bitching to a minimum, but if there’s one thing that’s killing her bliss, it’s the aching in her lower back, and his light version of massaging feels pretty great right now.

 

“I think Ellie’s taking after him, her hair’s getting curlier every day.”

 

“Don’t you have curly hair too, Emma?”

 

“It’s wavy at most, but these little baby hairs around your face are like little springs.”

 

“But maybe I get it from you, since you’re my mommy,” Ellie rocks back into her, causing the hair to slip through her fingers before realizing that she’s frozen by the statement. Her chin creaks toward Killian like it’s bionic, and the gears are sticking as it goes. He’s just as still.

 

Of all the talks that should take place in the quiet moonlight of their bedroom, this is one of them that simply hasn’t.

 

“That…that isn’t how it works, Ellie,” he turns to Emma then, hearing the struggle in her voice. He’s better at these talks where they take complex ideas and simplify them while keeping her innocence in tact, but he didn’t speak, so she did. “The parents who give birth to you are the people you take after physically.”

 

“But I have your blonde hair and Uncle Kilo’s blue eyes.” Ellie whispers like she’s embarrassed by the previous statement. “And I thought you…I thought you were my mommy and daddy now.”

 

“We are,” he answers before Emma can question him with another fearful look. He answers strongly, like there’s nothing else to discuss between the sheets of their bed when Ellie’s fast asleep a few tens of feet away. “But can you tell me your mother and father’s names?” Ellie reaches behind her to pull Emma’s hands from her hair before turning around to face him, her hands resting on his knees as she watches his face intently.

 

“Liam and Elsa Jones.”

 

“Is that how you want to refer to them when we talk about this right now, Love Bug? Does that make it less confusing?”

  
“Okay,” Ellie looks behind her briefly at the pictures on the wall, and when she turns back, she doesn’t look as sure as her ‘okay’ just sounded. “Will, uhm…will they be sad if I do?”

 

“I don’t think so, but if _you’ll_ be sad, do what makes you happier, darling.”

 

“I was their baby when I came outta her tummy, and they loved me, but they went away from me and I want to be happy with my new mommy and daddy.” Ellie expresses softly, but as thoughtful as a little girl can be. “They would not be sad if I was happy right?”

 

“Right,” Killian cups her jaw, brushing his thumb across her cheek a few times as his other hand clenches at his own thigh. “We all want you to be as happy as possible.”

 

“We don’t talk about them, ‘cause you get sad and I don’t want you to be sad.” Ellie scratches at the knees of his jeans in frustration, and Emma doesn’t know when or how to chime in, because she really doesn’t want to see Killian upset right now either but he can’t continue to suffer in silence.

 

They’re both doing the same thing, but the situation beneath the title is so much different for him than it is her. She can’t begin to imagine what struggle he’s having inside, but she wants so desperately to tell him to just let her know, let her help if she can.

 

She’s felt helpless before but this is new. This is not being able to heal the people you love most, and having to watch them hurt, and it’s a world of difference when you’re the one on the outside wanting to just consume their pain, make it your own and take it away. It’s another aspect of love she’s not accustomed to, and its god awful.

 

“It’s a sad thing, Love Bug. We can’t pretend it isn’t.” He takes in this quick, sharp breath, releasing it with a quiver of his bottom lip and she feels her goddamn heart plummet from it’s place in her chest. Perhaps it breaks free of her mind’s control, because the actions she takes, the words she speaks from here on out are not preconceived, not even considered for a second.

 

She anchors her arm around his waist, the other resting heavily on his chest as she begs him to trust that if he lets go of his control, expresses himself fully she’ll be there to rescue him, to rescue them both.

 

“Let me share your burdens,” she pleads softly, and tears tumble from his eyes at the request.

 

“It’s okay to cry in front of me, Uncle Kilo. I love you so so much, and I’m not scared,” Ellie climbs to sit on his lap, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing with all her might. Emma moves her hand to caress Ellie’s back, praying that maybe this helps him, helps them both.

 

“I love you more than anything, Eloise,” he’s clenching his eyes shut, burying his face in her hair. His hand rests on Emma’s lap now, finding stability with a grip on her knee. “I just wish you could know them, I wish they had more time, because you’re so perfect, my love, and I feel guilty. I feel like it’s not fair that I get you and I’ve done nothing to deserve you.”

 

“Yeah,” Ellie whines against his shoulder. “You do everything for me, you’re a very good daddy to me.”

 

“You are, baby. You’re such a great father,” Emma, sniffles, unable to control her tears when he’s hurting so badly.

 

“But you never met Liam. So you can say that I’m great, but neither of you understand the mold I’m trying to fill. Neither of you get…get what I’m not accomplishing.”

 

“Siblings are not there to compare yourself to your whole life, Killian. Please.” He huffs a bit more, breaking away from Ellie’s shoulder to look at Emma. He’s destroyed, and when she watches the fear and self-loathing in his eyes, watches the uneasiness he stares at her with, she can almost imagine the little boy left all alone in that home, and she would give her life to change his. “Tell me what to do for you, Killian.”

 

A trigger switches like feeding time is over and the cage he’s been hiding behind this entire time shuts back down over the hurt boy living within. He steadies his breathing effortlessly, and wipes his face like she never saw the shatter. He closes his eyes for a moment and when the moment is over, the deep dark trench of blues and greys have altered. He’s viewing her with ‘clearer’ eyes, but all that means is more guarded.

 

Was it something she said?

 

“Can you meet me at the doctor’s office with Ellie?”

 

“What?” Ellie tugs away from his shoulder, staring at him with concern. “Where are you going without us?”

 

“I just have to take a minute, do something really quick, my queen. I’ll see you just in time to find out if we’re getting a baby boy or a baby girl.” He has the nerve to smile, like Ellie is too foolish to see past it. He cups the back of her head, guiding her forehead to meet his lips. She nods despite the sadness in her own eyes. “I love you so much, please don’t worry about me.”

 

He hugs her tightly for a minute or two before setting her beside him and rising from the bed. Emma follows him when he pulls back from kissing her goodbye. She follows him to her feet and out of Ellie’s bedroom, because there’s no way he’s just magically healed.

 

“Where are you going?” She doesn’t want to sound like she’s nagging. She’s just worried. He senses it, when he retracts his steps away from her to kiss her again.

 

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll be at the appointment on time. Before you even.”

 

“And what about breakfast?” she attempts a completely unrelated topic. If there’s one thing Killian worries about, it’s them eating. He flashes a worried look around the kitchen before relaxing again when their eyes meet.

 

“If you leave now, you can still have time to grab a bite at Granny’s.”

 

“Baby, please talk to me,” she takes two steps closer to him, closing all the space he thinks he’ll feel better within. She grips his t-shirt in her hands, tugging him down to her. As their foreheads touch, she breaks again. “If I said the wrong thing, let me know, I’ll try harder.”

 

“You’re absolutely perfect, love,” he promises, covering her hands with his own. “Much too good for me, honestly. I just need to get a thing or two done. Please don’t worry about me either.”

 

“Of course I’m worried, I love you.”  His breath hitches like he still doesn’t fucking get it. Like he really doesn’t understand that she means it every single time it comes out of her mouth, and a million times before that when they were only gestures. “Please, don’t shut me out.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he kisses her again, and each kiss since he showed her a little more of himself seems like a little white lie on her lips. “I love you, I have to go.” With that he heads straight for the door.

 

-/-

 

He buys three dozen lilies. Staring at them in the passenger seat of his truck, the seat his love should be sitting in, he gets the urge to run back in the store and buy 1 dozen more.

 

He buys a wild flower bouquet instead for Ellie. Emma’s not the flower type and the light, bright petals will only blind her from seeing what he’s really trying to say. He buys her something else, tucking it in the pocket of his jeans and driving onto his destination.

 

He clocks himself, 10 minutes to share his mind and 10 minutes to get to the doctor’s office. The timer starts the minute he slams the door of his truck, rushing toward the spot he hasn’t visited since March of this year.

 

He thrusts the flowers down to his own damn surprise, he just throws them before the tombstone and tries to remember how words work when your mind is too loud to spit them out.

 

“She wants to call me dad,” he argues like there’s someone there fighting against the idea. “I told myself I wouldn’t take the title. I corrected her for two months when you first left, and now I want to hear it so bad I don’t know what to do.”

 

He wants them to answer just once, to say ‘it’s okay,’ or ‘hell no.’ He just wants to know. He wants a sign or something mystic like the movies, he wants the deer in the middle of the road that reminds him to take a good look at his life, or the unread letter randomly appearing in some stupid chest he keeps under his bed. He wants the movie answer, because it’s bloody predictable but it’s something to go by.

 

He has nothing to go by.

 

He grips his hands on the cold cement, closing his eyes softly, dropping his head and trying to find the quietest space in his mind. He wonders if he reaches the silence, will he be able to hear their voices again?

 

But all he sees is the love in Emma’s eyes when she’s holding Ellie, and the way they illuminate his life.

 

The alarm blares and he has no more answers than he came with. So does he stay a little longer with the loved ones he lost, or does he go back to the family he still has?

 

“I’m gonna let her call me ‘Dad.’ The four of us grew without one, but she shouldn’t. She’s gonna call Emma her mother, and I promise you, she’ll be happier this way. We’ll all be happier this way.”

 

-/-

 

They’ve already gone in to see Whale when he gets there, and the nurse lets him in with a disappointed glare. Ellie is sitting still in Emma’s lap while Whale is discussing things with them as he walks through the door.

 

“Uncle Kilo?” Ellie watches him as he crosses the floor to hand her the flowers. “Are these mine?”

 

“Yes,” he presses a kiss to her cheek, before lifting her into his arms. “And you’re mine.”

 

“Yeah. I’m your baby. Emma was saying that to Mr…uhm, Dr. Whale right now.” He hazards a look to his love, her eyes watching his suspiciously. “He’s gonna show us my baby sister soon.”

 

“Good to see you, Mr. Jones,” Whale says after clearing his throat awkwardly. “Why don’t you two take a seat and I’ll get everything ready?”

 

“Right, of course. I’m sorry,” Killian moves to the chair beside the examination table, keeping his eyes fixed on Emma. He’s behaving calmly, but God knows he’s frantic to find whether she’s angry with him or not. “How do you feel, darling?”

 

“I’m fine. I told him about the headaches, he suggested Tylenol for migraines, chamomile and lavender tea for anything less.”

 

“Oh, right. Okay,” he nods like he’s so damn grateful for that news, when in reality he’s just happy she’s speaking to him. He shouldn’t have just left. As Whale preps for the sonogram, Emma stares at the ceiling with exhaustion that makes him fearful. Maybe it was too much sending them alone, he should have just stayed.

 

She shivers at the coolness of the gel and Ellie perks up with concern.

 

“You okay, Emma?”

 

“It’s a little cold. I’m fine, Bug.”

 

“Okay, it helps see the baby, so you just have to be brave, and I’m proud of you for doing it.” Ellie encourages, leaning over Killian to hold Emma’s hand.

 

“Thank you, Ellie,” Emma laughs sincerely, rubbing her thumb across the back of Ellie’s hand.

 

“Okay, here’s baby,” Whale announces, leaving the room silently waiting for more. He takes a pen out of his pocket and taps at the monitor, this tube-like object emerging from the fetus is his target. “See that? Looks like a boy.” Ellie inhales sharply, before glancing down at Emma’s stomach.

 

“Are you sure?” she asks, as politely as he could expect for how fearful they both are that she’ll be devastated. “Maybe it’s a mistake? Can you just, uhm…one more look, maybe? Please.”

 

“You want a little sister?” Whale looks back at Ellie with a sincere smile, and light, entertained eyes.

 

“It’s okay if it’s a boy, but I think it’s a girl, Dr. Whale…Mister.”

 

“Well, it looks like a boy, because of this line,” and he directs his pen back to the tube-like structure. “But that’s just the umbilical cord. That’s how the baby gets to eat everything your mom eats. You’re having a baby sister after all, Queen Eloise.”

 

“I am?” Ellie is practically standing on Killian’s knee, she couldn’t get much closer to the monitor if she tried anything short of climbing down from his lap and walking around. “It’s not a pee-pee?”

 

“Eloise?” Killian doesn’t embarrass easily, but she’s 2 for 2 this week on saying less than lady-like words in front of adults she barely knows.

 

“That’s how he tells, he told me while you were not here. If he sees a pee-pee, it’s a boy. That’s not a pee-pee, that’s the food tube. We’re having a baby girl!”

 

“Are you happy?” Emma whispers, choked with emotion he hopes is there for all the right reasons.

 

“I would be happy no matter way, but I’m happier that I was right.”

 

“And how’d you know for sure it was a girl?” Whale asks, very animatedly to encourage her confidence.

 

“I had a dream about a little girl playing with me when I get bigger,” Ellie scoots down from Killian’s lap to walk over to Dr. Whale. “Can I stand on your chair so I can see my baby sister more?” Whale laughs but scoops Ellie up, helping her balance on the chair beside his and Killian shoots him an apologetic smile almost instantly. Whale just shakes his head like it’s common. He turns his sights back to Emma, who is watching him with misty eyes.

 

“It’s a girl,” she whispers and tears fall from his eyes before he realizes, because they are going to have _two_ daughters and nothing in this world matters more than that right now. He moves to cover her in the undying adoration he feels in his chest when she touches him.

 

“I love you so much, Swan.”

 

“I love you too. Are you happy?”

 

“Immensely,” he breathes, pulling back to get the gift from his jeans. Ellie is preoccupied, rambling off about how if this was in color whether they would be able to see the baby’s blue eyes. Whale is replying with probability and statistics. He’s happy for the semi-private moment he gets to do this in.

 

He grabs her hand and presses the keychain he picked up from the store into her palm. It’s not much, but it’s a huge statement if he’s ever made one before, and he hasn’t made _this_ statement directly to her before. He thinks he really needs to.

 

She beams up at him like he’s foolish before looking down at what her open hand is revealing. The keychain has a script charm that reads ‘Mommy’ and the sharp intake has him believing she took the meaning correctly. He watches on bated breath as her emotions surface in a hot spring of tears and the most heart-breaking, yet beautiful smile he’s ever seen her wear. She flashes her bright, white teeth, blinding him with something he finally knows for certain as happiness.

 

“From Ellie and the baby.”

 


	14. Lives Affected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks! Special Thanks to RavenclawPianist

 

**Lives Affected**

 

“Eloise Joanna Jones”

 

It feels like just yesterday he was dropping her off the first time. He remembers the way she had whimpered and whined, saying ‘No’ and “I want you, please.’ When he let the teacher take her from his arms. And even the soothing sound of Miss Nova’s voice couldn’t stop him from crying in the car before leaving the parking lot.

 

They’ve been through a lot, and now she’s walking across the make-shift stage in a miniature, navy cap and gown that brings out the brilliant blue of her eyes.

 

Some days he thinks she’s five going on fifteen, other days he looks at her and sees the small child who had trouble making it through the day without crying in his arms.

 

Of course he’s crying again now, but for a completely different reason.

 

-/-

 

“Eloise Joanna Jones.” The voice of her preschool director sounds off through the video they’re showing Anna over skype.

 

“And that’s me walking across the stage in my hat and uhm, and robe.” Ellie tells her very proudly “And I get to hold that paper that says my name and that I know my ABC’s and colors and numbers. We have pictures of the treats at the party after too.”

 

“I’m so proud of you Ellie Jo!” Anna praises. “You’re so smart and you look so beautiful.”

 

“Thank you. My Emma did my hair. Oh, and uhm we’re gonna tell you something else when Emma comes back from the bathroom.” Ellie whispers super ‘secretively’ and Killian battles against his own excitement.

 

“Oh I can’t wait.” Anna goes along with the excitement. A few seconds pass before the bathroom door opens and Emma comes out a little flustered looking.

 

“Are you alright, Love?” he calls from behind Ellie. She nods quickly, taking measured steps to the computer and sitting in the chair he arranged for her.

 

“Hi.” She breathes “It’s nice to see you again.” The first time was hardly a first time, she stayed long enough to say the same line without the ‘again’ before she suddenly had the urge to vomit. It seems as if she gets nauseas every time they mention her skyping with Anna.

 

“Hi! Are you alright?”

 

“Great, how are you?” She replies with such a shaky tone, he’s sure Anna will think it’s a bad connection, not a bad case of nerves.

 

“Can’t complain, just got to watch my Ellie Jo graduate from pre-school!” And Ellie nods, still so proud of her own accomplishment. He’s thankful she carries this confidence, will do anything to protect it because it’s absolute gold for a little girl to have. “Ellie says there’s something secret to tell me?”

 

“Oh…” Emma glances to Killian with fear just resonating off of her in bounds. “Uhm…why don’t you…”

 

“Love?”

 

“I…” she’s swallowing air by the ‘pound’ so to speak. He’s never seen her panic quite like this and he’s afraid if she’s sharing oxygen with the baby, she’s not getting very much herself.

 

“We’re having a baby sister!” Ellie blurts out. “Well, I am, they’re having a uhm…daughter? It’s a girl.”

 

“What’s a girl?” Anna’s eyes glow brightly through the screen. She doesn’t look like her enthusiastic self. “I thought you were getting a dog not a… Oh my…”

 

“You’re not escited?” Ellie questions a little harshly. “Why not?”

 

“Ellie, do you…I…I’d really like to talk to Uncle Kilo without you hearing, do you think you could make that happen for a second or two?” Ellie turns to him with blatant disgust showing on her face.

 

“Why is she not escited?” Maybe he looks a little disgusted himself, baffled at the very least because Anna gets excited over peculiar shaped clouds. He tugs his eyes from the monitor just in time for Emma’s voice to stop him from speaking.

 

“Ya know what, Bug, we have to get you to ballet, so why don’t you say bye to your Aunnie Anna, and we get you in your leotard?” Emma suggests, rising from the chair rather quickly and moving out of Killian’s grasp when he reaches for her.

 

“Okay.” Ellie grumbles before turning back to the monitor.” Bye Aunnie Anna.” She says with little devotion as she’s sliding from his lap and marching after Emma to her bedroom.

 

“Darling, I’ll be right there, just a moment.” He calls out but Ellie is barreling after Emma’s fleeting figure and he finds himself speaking to no one. So he turns his attentions back to the screen. “Speak quickly.” He warns the woman he can’t seem to recognize the longer he goes without seeing her in person.

 

“Killian, she’s pregnant? And you’re referring to the baby as Ellie’s sister?”

 

“You mean the same way I refer to you as my sister?” Somehow he never thought Anna would be the naysayer in all of this. Somehow he thought he knew her better. “You sound awfully condescending for someone who gave up their right to form opinions about my life.”

 

“I didn’t give up anything, and I’m the least condescending person you know, what are you saying?”

 

“What are you saying? And say it quickly Anna!”

 

“I don’t want Ellie to be confused.”

 

“Oh, horse shit. If you’d like to know what’s confusing her, it starts with the reality that her aunt hasn’t seen her in over a year and a half. If it weren’t for these skype dates, she wouldn’t know what you look like.”

 

“You’re just the same, always turning any criticism around on the opposing party. Grow up and listen to what I’m saying. You’re having a child with a new girlfriend, fine, apparently protection isn’t a concept you’re familiar with since your last girlfriend had already been through menopause but—”

 

“I’m hanging up.”

 

“Don’t hang up.” Anna groans. “Listen, if Elsa were here—”

 

“Elsa is just as present as you are. Let’s be clear. You don’t get to throw stones from across the pond. You’re not that great a shot, dear.”

 

“God, will you give it a break, I get it, I’m far. You’re mad. Okay, I’m sorry I’m not in Boston, I’m coming and when I get there, we’ll talk about it. Until then, I’ll just pretend it’s the best news I ever heard.”

 

“I really couldn’t give a shit. I gather them up to tell you this and you use it as another opportunity to take a piss at me about Milah and upset my _current_ girlfriend. You’re a class act, you know that?” Killian answers honestly, his blood boiling. “If you’re so upset with me, don’t come.” He hangs up then and suddenly he’s fifteen waiting for Liam to tear into him for making Anna cry. Only Liam never shows up.

 

That’s the coldest of realities, because Liam never ever shows up anymore and nothing is the way it was when they were here. Liam isn’t going to come to Anna’s rescue and Elsa isn’t going to make them sit on the couch and hold hands until they have something nice to say about each other. There’s no one to moderate or mediate and everything that used to be between them died the day they buried Liam and Elsa.

 

-/-

She hasn’t taken Ellie to ballet for a few months, honestly and she only saw one of the mother’s at Ellie’s Pre-K graduation last week so she’s just waiting for the shit storm.

 

She’s used to being an outcast. She was the orphan in middle school, orphan turned outcast. Freak-turned-slut in high school and of course she never had to worry about cliques at a collegian level because she never went. She did get ignored and treated as damaged goods in prison though. After that she stopped involving herself in groups altogether.

 

This group was the worst she’s ever encountered, because they smiled as they spewed their hateful, back-handed comments, and she had someone needing her to stick it out and stay civil.

 

Ellie kissed the belly before scampering inside. To be honest, she might as well had drawn an arrow on the belly and added some flashy light show because everyone was just too intrigued the minute class began.

 

“How far along are you?” One mother asks, the kinder one, the youngest one with a daughter a little younger than Ellie and a baby boy in her lap.

 

“Eighteen weeks tomorrow.” She keeps her focus on the window that allows the mother’s to peer in on the class.

 

“How exciting! Do you know what you’re having?” Another mom asks, the oldest one, decorated in furs and jewelry. The one she hates the most.

 

“Yeah.” She keeps it short, not exactly hiding the gender from anyone but who the hell are these people to need to know that?

 

“You’re not very articulate with answers now are you?” She chuckles, turning to get her gang of gaggling geese to do the same. The younger mother doesn’t but the rest join in. “You don’t seem excited at all…”

 

She knows the wretched hag is just trying to get a rise out of her. God help her she wants to give her the backlash she’s begging for but she’s here for Ellie and it’s better she just fit the fucking role Killian would like her to.

 

“I’m sorry, just tired. We’re having another girl.” She answers softly, the smile forming is the most exhausting thing of the whole experience.

 

“Another?” It’s that third mother, the one with dragon-lady finger nails and a snarky little smirk. “Oh, you’re not claiming Eloise as yours are you?” And maybe it’s remembering the look on Anna’s face only an hour ago, but it breaks her.

 

“Excuse me?” She turns too quickly, anger rattling against her vocal chords. 

 

“Seems a bit…mal-mannered, no?”

 

“Oh god.” Emma laughs to herself to keep from crying. “Do you do anything worthwhile, or all of your entertainment comes from burying yourself in someone else’s business?”

 

“We care about Killian and Eloise, is all.” The older bitch expresses with a fake fucking hand falling against her chest like it’s coming from her heart. Everyone knows she’s hollow as hell.

 

“Did I hear my name?” Of course Killian appears when she’s two seconds from firing off at these women, of course he comes in and she looks like the one who can’t play nice. He’s holding a huge pink box and smiling widely.

 

It’s a sudden cluster of ‘Oh Killian’s and ‘Hi, how are you’ and even a ‘You look so handsome in that navy!’ She feels more nauseas than she’s been her whole pregnancy.

 

“Hi ladies. Lovely to see you all.” He sets the pink box on an empty chair and angles it toward the risers. “Emma and I bought pink cupcakes to announce our blissful addition.”

 

And he is perfect and of course these awful women love him, but he doesn’t realize he’s only solidifying how much they know she’s not worthy of him. She’s tempted to run out and cry in her car but sucks it up long enough for him to sit beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulder as the women move to pick out cupcakes.

 

“Are these glutton-free?” one of the quieter ones asks. He nods and winks before turning his face to Emma’s to reveal the truth. He dramatically rolls his eyes where only she can see, and she fakes a laughing grin.

 

“Sorry I was late, my love.” He pecks her lips softly, brushing his hand through her hair as he does. “I take it you already shared the news?”

 

“We more so had to drag it out of her. That lady of yours, she’s a steel trap.” They all have the nerve to laugh again.

 

“Ah, that’s part of the reason my love runs so deep.” He laughs back in their direction, more pompous than she’s ever witnessed. “My Swan isn’t the gossiping type.”

 

And now he really is a knight, now she catches on. He’s the ‘kill-em with kindness type’ and it registers.

 

“There’s nothing Killian hates more than a girl who doesn’t know how to mind her business.” Emma plays along, grinning obnoxiously wide and batting her lashes like they’re playing roles in a sitcom. “But of course, we all know most men do.”

 

“Too right lass.” Killian continue, crossing an elegant leg over his knee. “In fact, I believe I had a board meeting with almost everyone’s husband here, and after, we were discussing just that. He takes a moment to look around the room. “Oh, Mrs. Stefan, your husband was completely obliterated by the idea of a grown, established woman being caught up in the lives of someone half their age. Of course we weren’t discussing you…just women in general. He knows you’re much too civilized. Much like you, Mrs. De Villa. In fact, I couldn’t imagine a room of such wonderful women being that way.”

 

The looks on each individual face were priceless and so satisfying, the thought of tears were only induced by laughter now. One by one they shut their mouths or stuffed them with whatever remaining cupcake they had in their hands.

 

“Anyhow, if you had any other questions about my relationship with Emma, or our children, I’d be happy to answer. I quite enjoy bragging about the amazing state our family is in.”

 

“Congratulations, again.” The youngest one replies with a humble smile.

 

“Thank you, Rory. I’ve already asked Philip a few questions about labor.”

 

“Well, that’s brilliant, he passed out halfway through. He has the most impeccable timing, he is always injured, ill, or unconscious during important moments in our life.”

 

They share a laugh that Emma finally feels good about joining in on, the other women completely silent the rest of the practice.

 

And when practice gets out, Ellie comes barreling toward them, noticing the cupcakes after she’s settled in Killian’s lap. “Are those ‘cause my baby sister?”

 

“How’d you guess?” Emma asks, wondering if Killian actually planned on bringing these the whole time.

 

“Me and Uncle Kilo talked about it.” Ellie confirms.

 

“Killian Jones!” Ella makes her way across the mother’s room as the rest of them shuffle out with their kids. “Get over here!” And he obliges as soon as Ellie shifts to Emma’s lap, gently running her hand over the belly.

 

“Ella” Killian hugs her before motioning to the cupcakes.

 

“As if I needed a box of bright pink cupcakes to let me know it was a girl, Ellie’s been blabbering between every plié and piqué.”

 

“Nuh uh, Miss Ella, I only said it once.”

 

“Once a minute.” Ella winks back at Eloise before focusing back on Killian. “Anyhow, now my whole class is excited for the baby and we could barely get through a position without someone asking more questions. Are you two holding a press conference for these girls? You’re practically Prince William in their eyes so you better come up with something great.”

 

“Actually, I’m glad you asked, are you still handy with a camera?”

 

“The handiest. Oh, oh please tell me we’re having a photo shoot?”

 

“I want to do it before it gets cold.”

 

“A what?” Emma asks from the forgotten corner of the room.

 

“A pregnancy photo shoot.” Ella answers from around Killian’s form. He turns slowly as if he already knew he should have ran the idea past her. “Oh wow, I already have a million ideas. This is going to be the best. You have to let me put them on my website.”

 

“Wait what?” Emma doesn’t want to come across as the downer in this little exchange, but he maybe could have mentioned it. The last picture she remembers posing for that wasn’t her and Ellie sending him ‘selfies’ was more than likely her mug shot. She hates photos.

 

“Oh, and I know exactly how to incorporate Ellie into them.” Ella continues “Send me an email, we’ll coordinate times and dates. I’m probably more excited than you.”

 

“Yeah, you could say that.” Emma responds, glaring at her boyfriend, still staring at her shamefully.

 

Ella picks up a cupcake and walks out into the reception, leaving the three of them there in the silence.

 

“Miss Ella takes good pictures.” Ellie assures Emma. “She took my birthday pictures.” And yes, they came out gorgeously, but that doesn’t mean Emma will look as well with a huge belly and all.

 

“I didn’t realize you guys were bff’s.” Emma comments, not even from a jealous place, just a surprised one. “I mean, I knew you were more than a client of her studio, but you two are really good friends.”

 

“She was Elsa’s best friend.” Killian closes the pink box and lifts a hand for Ellie to hold. She doesn’t hesitate to climb off Emma’s lap and over to his side. “I’ve known her since I was eleven or twelve?”

 

“She doesn’t seem that much older than you.”

 

“Yeah, well.” He nods toward the door but she hasn’t even bothered rising from where she’s seated. “C’mon, Swan. Ellie’s hungry and can’t have a cupcake until dinner.”

 

“Ugh. How do you always know what I’m thinking?” Ellie raises her chin up at him, swinging their arms faster.

 

“I can read minds. You know that, Love Bug.” Killian turns his gaze back to Emma, squinting comically. “Like Emma is afraid her belly is too big to be beautiful in these photos.”

 

“What?” Ellie turns her head quickly, shocked at Emma. “You are always beautiful and the bigger your belly gets only is my sister getting bigger too. That’s good! You’re both really pretty!”

 

“Thanks Kid. But actually, I was thinking about how Uncle Kilo doesn’t know how to talk to his girlfriend first before signing us up for things.” And she finally gets herself up from the risers, almost skipping to grab Ellie’s other hand and squeeze lovingly. “But you are gorgeous and I know you’re going to be beautiful in every shot we take.”

 

“So we can do it?” He glances over at her shyly, and she almost hates how cute he is when he’s trying to get on her good side.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And we’ll send them to Aunnie Anna and tell her to stop being bad and be escited.”

 

-/-

 

Killian makes them stuffed bell peppers for dinner and she’s shocked at how much Ellie eats on nights she has ballet. She actually devours her serving and Killian splits a second one with her. He asks if she’s sure she really wants a cupcake now. Of course she wants a cupcake. It’s late and he’s afraid she’ll have trouble falling asleep, but she’s down by 9:15 like always.

 

They spend some extra time on the couch, him apologizing for not mentioning a few things, her thanking him for putting those moms in their place.

 

He’s got his head in her lap and she runs her fingers through his silky locks when the idea of baby names finally surfaces after finding out the sex.

 

“Ryan?”

 

“No, not Ryan. No ‘R’s.”

 

“What do you mean ‘no ‘R’s’ what kind of permission did anyone give you to just rule out a whole letter?”

 

“I hate R’s. Robin will think we’re copying him. He’s weird like that.” She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s the weird one. “I like K’s. Kenna, Kylie, Katherine.”

 

“Kenna is short for McKenna.”

 

“Not if we don’t want it to be.”

 

“You’re so narcissistic. Are we really going to pretend you like K’s for any other reason than your name starting with a K?” She laughs when he pretends to be insulted.

 

“It’s a real crisp sound. Like biting into an apple.”

 

“I like how E’s sound then. Like a gentle sigh.” And she’s joking, but his eyes brighten as they connect with hers from below.

 

“I love E’s. Emma and Eloise. They’re my favorite.”

 

“Okay. E names that we don’t already experience every day. No Emily, too close.”

 

“Evelyn?”

 

“I don’t know… keep it in the maybe. How about Eva?”

 

“Too close to ‘Evil’ and I’m not interested in naming our child something villainous.” He turns his head, nuzzling his nose into her belly. “You’re not a villain right darling, you’re daddy’s angel, aren’t you?” And he hasn’t ever actually referred to himself as ‘daddy’ before so forgive her when she starts to sniffle and spill out soft tears.

 

“Evangeline. It’s from The Princess and the Frog.” Emma suggests. “Ellie would freak out if we did, she loves Evangeline.”

 

“It’s a star Swan, not an actual person.”

 

“Eliza?” She asks instead. “Erica?”

 

“Eliza can go in our ‘maybe’ list.” He presses a quick kiss to her tummy before lifting himself from her lap and turning to rest on his knees. His hair is a mess but his eyes are the cleanest, clearest blue they’ve ever been. “Can I just express to you, I’ve never felt happier than in this moment.”

 

She was sort of already crying, but now she feels herself melting into mush and emotions. Her eyes are burning yet being hit with this coolness that echoes throughout her body, her teeth ache, her throat suddenly dry and her lungs icy.

 

She knows he loves her, and hearing him say it so often, so surely, is and has always been an experience, but sometimes we love people who make us miserable, and God knows she’s done her damage to this beautiful, perfect man. She’s never known how _happy_ he’s been to be with her. It’s as if her very soul is trying to jump for joy, right out of her body because nothing is working, not her mouth, not her hands, not her brain.

 

“Love?”

 

“Yes.” She nods eagerly, sniffling and swiping away at tears. “Yes, that’s it, love. I am so…” and she probably looks like an over-excited five-year-old when she breaks in the middle of her declaration to just breathe. “I am so, so in love with you.” And now it’s his turn to look too young when he breaks into this toothy grin, dipping his head to hide it as best he can. But she sees it. She falls even more in love because he’s too bashful when she’s telling him how she feels, he’s almost too innocent and she wants that for him. She wants him to feel like he’s never been broken. If they can heal each other with what they’ve got going on, she will never stop loving him for as long as it makes them better.

 

She tugs him back to her, and he has to brace himself on the arm of the couch, combing his fingers through her hair with his free hand. He halts them just before their lips touch and it only brightens the light blooming in her chest when he meets her shaky breaths, every rise and fall perfectly in time, every little bit of this feeling like their first kiss again. She meets him part of the way, arms around his neck, heart pounding out of her chest. Their lips touch and it’s fireworks sounding from states away, yet at the same time her soul is settling back into place after going just nuts the last few minutes. He’s comfort and combustion and everything in between. He’s just everything. Point-blank.

 

-/-

 

His fight with Anna was weeks ago, and it’s Ellie’s first day of Kindergarten. He can’t decide if he should send a picture, if she even deserves to see her all grown up and ready for her first day.

 

She’s wearing a turquoise and yellow sundress with a white cardigan, the Summer slipping from them like the sand of the beach falling through his fingers. He’s holding onto his two blonde rays of light to keep from feeling anxious about what Fall will bring.

 

To be honest, if Anna doesn’t visit he’s certain he’ll lose the will to continue their relationship. He snaps a picture for himself, unwilling to let the day go unnoted, but he’ll decide later at the office if she gets to see it. She should be badgering him for one, if the roles were reversed, if Ellie were tens of thousands of miles away, he’d be begging for a photo weekly. He’d be calculating her growth because she’s their last connection to Liam and Elsa and how dare Anna not want to soak in every little bit of who Ellie is.

 

She doesn’t get a picture.

 

He changes his mind three more times before dropping Emma off at home.

 

“How was drop-off?” Robin and Ruby are standing in front of his office, bothering Smee.

 

“Good, no tears.” From Ellie that is, he and Emma cried walking back to the car. “She is really excited and promised me she wouldn’t even be cranky over missing nap.”

 

“What a gem.” Ruby beams, pick-pocketing his phone and picking the locked screen. “Oh, this picture is so cute!”

 

“Let us all see, Ruby.” Robin admonishes, reaching across the counter for his phone.

 

“No, this one is better, look how cute the three of you are.” She speaks his own thoughts. He’s never been more proud of the way they resemble a happy little family.

 

And God, are they happy. He’s sure he’s the happiest one, just overjoyed that they’ve found such a great routine, and everyone is content with how things are. They close next week on the house and nothing in the world could trip them up now.

 

Not even a fight with his sister.

 

“D’you send one to Anna, mate?” He glares at his business partner. That’s something Liam would do, badger him to include Anna.

 

“She doesn’t want one.” He answers after averting his eyes to a better view than the oncoming condescending gaze.

 

“Yeah, who says?”

 

“It’s more so, ‘who doesn’t say?’ which is Anna, ever. She never says she wants one, and the belly is in that shot, so she’ll just be displeased anyhow.”

 

“You haven’t hashed it out?” Ruby smacks the phone on the raised desk. “Killian, what’s your issue?”

 

And of course Ruby takes Anna’s side. They practically grew up together, but Anna never takes Ruby’s side in return because Anna doesn’t know how to be there for anyone. It’s not her place, see, her place is to be the protected, the reminded, the one who receives suggestions, instructions, the one who gets invited. She never takes the first step so if she wants to stay true to form, they won’t talk.

 

He’s not coming to her first this time. He’s the only reason they talk now, he sought her out, he begged her for months to make her way back to their lives. He suggested skype, he scheduled Fridays and he’s the one who gets upset when she forgets to mention she’s out of service or a full day ahead because she’s in Australia that week.

 

“When was the last time your best friend called you?” Killian picks up his phone, dropping it back in his breast pocket. “Oh that’s right, never. She never calls anyone so don’t start defending her now. If she is only inclined to remember her niece started Kindergarten today, she’ll stop there. Don’t expect her to be longing for a photo. You’ll only let yourself down.”

 

For the first time in ages, he locks the door after walking into his office.

 

Within five minutes his phone rings, lit up with a photo of Ellie and Emma at the beach.

 

“Hello?”

_“Baby, what’s going on?”_ She sounds so worried, so sweet and considerate and who gives a bloody fuck if no one else in this world cares about him. He’s got the best lass caring about him.

 

“Which one of the traitors was it?”

 

 _“Not that it particularly matters, but the one with an emoji problem. She sent the poop one after a couple of hot faced ones.”_ She cuts her laugh short and he wishes she wouldn’t have, wishes he could just listen to her soft chuckles for hours and find his ‘zen’ again. _“No really, babe, call your sister.”_

 

“No.” He hates to be short with her, she’s done nothing wrong. “I just…I shouldn’t have to be the one who forgives and forgets.”

 

_“Well, you’re older and you do. That’s what we’re gonna teach Ellie, isn’t it? Being older means being the one who jumps first, every time. Call your sister.”_

 

“I really don’t want to.” He repeats, feeling the pain plummet deep down as he finalizes his decision. He’s done. She’s not going to get him to jump again, and if she never jumps her damn self, she lost him. “Love, I just got into the office, I have things to worry about and Anna isn’t one of them. I love you, tremendously. I’ll see you later?”

 

 _“Okay.”_ She sighs, a bit disappointed in him, he knows, but she’s never had siblings to break her heart like Anna has him. _“I love you too, have a good day.”_

 

She hangs up first, and he waits for the screen to turn back to the picture of Ellie kissing the belly. He unlocks it and curses Ruby through emojis, happy the new update includes the middle finger. HR be damned.

 

-/-

 

She feels the same ol’ nausea that surfaces every time she looks at the skype icon on the computer. This is for the best. If he’s not going to fix his family, she will.

 

“Hello?” And maybe it takes a second for the image of her alone in their living room to materialize, because she doesn’t seem shocked at all at first. “Emma?”

 

“Hi.” Emma suddenly regrets everything. Why the hell did she think she was the ‘fix-it’ type? That was definitely Mary Margaret talking and look were it landed her. “Anna, hi.” She repeats again and Anna does this weird smile, her teeth apart like if her top and bottom row don’t touch it won’t feel as fake.

 

“Where’s… ya know…everyone?”

 

“Killian’s at work and Ellie started Kindergarten, today.” Maybe it’s biting or maybe Anna has a mean sense of guilt all her own, because her face falls almost immediately.

 

“Oh god, am I going to get chewed out? I knew I was forgetting something.” She starts flipping through a calendar, rambling about the time she forgot his birthday. “He gets so bent out of shape because he’s the anal one and I’m just the mess. Sorry, I try you know, but eventually I come to terms with who I am, you think he would too! Did she cry? Was she excited? Did you take pictures?”

 

“Anna, please call him on his cell phone. He’s so upset.”

 

“Why? He’s used to it…” She looks pensively at the calendar. “When’s your birthday?” It catches her off guard and she fumbles at first, probably looking like an idiot.

 

“Uhm…October 22nd...He snapped at Ruby and Robin.”

 

“Snapping at Ruby and Robin is his favorite pastime, you know, besides organizing his underwear drawer and pre-washing dishes. That makes you a Libra…hmm, you’re a bit of a mess then? That’s okay, I’m a Pisces, huge mess!”

 

“Yeah…Listen, he’s really hurt by more than just you forgetting a date.”

 

“When’s the due date?” She is blatantly ignoring the idea of talking to him and it’s almost infuriating. “Better mark that down before I get reprimanded.”

 

“Yeah, speaking of due dates, do you not want him to have this child with me?” The pages stop flipping all together, the calendar just shaking in her hands. She prepares herself and then looks back up at Emma through the screen.

 

“Of course I do, I love babies, and you seem very nice.” It looks like it hurts her to be nice or something. She clenches her jaw like him before releasing whatever charade this was. “I just wanted to know sooner. He thinks I never call but he never talks about himself when I do. It’s all Ellie, all the time. I love Ellie, but I’m grinding my gears here trying to get my brother to talk about his girlfriend and he starts off by telling me you’re pregnant. That’s not the best situation is all.” She really does talk a lot, and quickly and it doesn’t seem to make much sense when thrown together the way she does, but whatever. Emma just wants to get them on speaking terms.

 

“And Ellie having a ‘sister?’”

 

“I haven’t met you in real life, which, let Killian tell it, is a crime against humanity but I just know that Killian becoming my brother had me feeling like Liam was my dad and if we’re changing titles around, I think I should meet you, you know?” And now her eyes are as wide as Ellie’s whenever they’re breaking bad news to her. They glisten through the pixels and leave Emma feeling indifferent about the whole thing.

 

“In ten years, Ellie won’t remember what my sister was like. I doubt she remembers her much now, because I’m fighting to remember the sound of her voice…” She gently wipes away tears and tosses her calendar on the table with a loud thump. “All I’m saying is, I’d like to know who Elsa’s replacement is.”

 

“I’m…not…” but she is. She is replacing Elsa in Ellie’s life no matter how they try to make it so Ellie knows about her parents.

 

“Look, I should go.” She shrugs, still sniffling and still incredibly sad. “I’ll call him. Bye Emma.”

 

“Bye.”

 

It’s times like these she wonders how much good she ever really does. Every chance she takes to make things better ends up way worse.

 

-/-

 

“Hello?” the number isn’t familiar but he answers anyhow. The line is silent short of a few sniffles and a slow exhale. “Hello?”

 

_“Kilo…”_

 

“Why are you crying, is everything okay?”

 

_“You didn’t send me pictures of Ellie.”_

 

“You didn’t ask.”

_“I didn’t remember but that never stopped you before. Are you still mad at me?”_

 

“Yes, I’m still bloody mad at you, Anna.” She sniffles some more, this hiccupping breath like she’s just suffered a fit hits his eardrums and shatters him. “Anna…”

_“You know me, why are you acting funny now? I’m sorry, I’m never going to be like you.”_

 

“Just be present. Just care. I’m only asking you to care, to be happy for me and to give a damn.”

_“I give two damns on our worst days and you know it. You…you sprung that baby on me without any indication prior to that day. I think that was a little messed up.”_

 

“Did Ruby call you?”

 

_“No, Emma did. She’s a Libra, and you’re an Aquarius, do you know what time of day she was born?”_

 

“She doesn’t know what time of day she was born. She’s an orphan.”

 

_“See! You never told me anything about her! Shame on you.”_

 

“Shame on you!” He fires back and she lets out another trembling sigh.

_“Don’t be rude. You’re running around making me out to be a villain. You know me.”_

 

She keeps saying that. ‘you know how I am,’ or ‘you know me’ but they suffered two tragic deaths and they’ve been living world’s apart. His life is a million ways different than it was when they ‘knew’ each other.

 

“No, I don’t.” he sighs, because anger is fine, but this is deeper than a temper and a tantrum, this is facing the fact that he grew up with her, only to lose her with his brother and Elsa. “Things have changed a lot since the day you left. The man you know wouldn’t recognize me these days. I feel as if the girl I knew has no clue who you are either.”

_“Okay, so you knock up your girlfriend and take over a company and now you’re a different man? No, Killian. Circumstances change but people are true to form. I know you and if you say different you’re wrong.”_

 

“I’m at work. I can’t go round and round with you. Are you coming in November or not?”

 

_“Yeah, I’ll be there.” She sighs. “and I’ll prove you wrong. I love you to the moon.”_

 

Instead of proving him wrong, some proof that she actually means it would be nice.

 

“To the moon.”

 

_“Send the picture.”_

 

“I will. Bye Anna.”

_“Congratulations on my second niece.”_

-/-

 

“You’re home!” Ellie darts from the couch to his arms in a matter of seconds, and he finds himself on bended knee to catch her. “I love Kindergarten and I’m not even tired, Uncle Kilo, I’m not even cranky or nothing!”

 

“Wow!” He replies animatedly, picking her up with him as he stands. He notices Emma in the kitchen, tossing items she probably thinks they won’t need into boxes without wrapping them up. “Are you helping Emma pack?”

 

“Yeah, I’m putting all my artwork in binders. She gave me a hole punch and I’m being very careful not to punch my fingers.” She points to the coffee table, completely littered with painting she’s been collecting all summer and a few drawing Emma took down from the fridge and the closet near the computer desk. “She says we’ll put them in the office and label them with the year and season.”

 

“Sounds like a brilliant idea.” He presses a kiss to her temple before walking them over to the sofa. She sets on his lap, picking at the flesh of her lips. “What is it, Love Bug?”

 

“I uhm… I wanna tell you about school.”

 

“Oh of course. Spare no detail. I’m all ears.” She releases the grin he’s been waiting for all day. The reason his bones never ache and his feet never fail to walk, his life source is her smile.

 

“I love school! I had so much fun and I am like the only kid who can write my first and last name. Also, I made friends with a boy named Jakey, so I’m glad we didn’t have a boy ‘cause I’d have two jakeys in my life! Also, Felipe is my friend too, but sometimes he picks his nose and eats it so I tell him he has to wash his hands before he can touch my crayons. His mommy calls him Pepe and he wants us to call him Pepe too, but I really like saying Felipe! Oh, and I love Mrs. Nolan even more! She sings the Clean-up song just like Miss Nova. Oh, oh oh, and I also got to be line-leader on our tour of the school! I’m the 3rd tallest in my class, and everyone says I color really pretty and I made friends with a girl named Gabby who has dark, dark hair and eyes like my mommy…Emma.”

 

“Wow! Good call on telling that Pepe to wash his hands.” He winks, before continuing to prove he listened to her every word. “And you are getting so tall, Love Bug, and so smart and you are one of the most amazing artists I know. You said Gabby has Emma’s eyes?”

 

“They are blue and green and yellow.”

 

“Yellow?” Emma finally comments from the kitchen.

 

“Gold.” He replies, because he knows exactly what Ellie’s referring to. It’s when she’s happiest, when she’s laughing and looking at them with so much love he loses himself in her eyes. They glow green, with a blue shadow and little specks of gold that make him think her eyes are only mirroring the very reflection of her gold hair in his own eyes. 

 

“Yeah, gold.” Ellie nods. “And Gabby is nice and she has a baby brother who is starting to walk. Oh and Mrs. Nolan asked us to tell everybody three things about us and I said ‘I dance ballet’ and I said ‘I have a baby sister coming’ and I said that uhm, I said about the doggy we’re getting.”

 

“Oh did you indeed?”

 

“Yeah, everybody knows now, and I can’t be a liar, that’s not good.”

 

“Bug, do me a favor, please?” Emma calls from the kitchen, she’s standing on a stool and making Killian nervous, so story time needs to finish up right about now anyhow.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Go take a box and put your dolls and your stuffed animals in it. Don’t forget their shoes and clothes.”

 

“But not Sven, right?”

 

“Right, only Sven can stay, everybody else in the box, Bueno?”

 

“Bueno!” Ellie hops off Killian’s lap and rushes over to grab one of the twenty boxes in the kitchen. “Oh, and we’re learning Spanish. I counted to one today.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Mmhmm. Look, look.” And she holds her hand up like she’s about to conduct her vocal chords to make a symphony of sounds. “Uno. See, I learned that in one day. Uno is one. I learned that in uno day.”

 

“Brilliant! You’re already more qualified than myself to run a company.” She beams at him before flipping the box over her head like a helmet and blindly navigating her way to her room.

 

He rises from the couch immediately after, hustling to the kitchen to meet his Swan as she steps down from the stool.

 

“S’there a reason we needed to be alone at this exact minute?” He whispers huskily into her ear as he wraps his arms around her. “D’you miss me that much?”

 

“Baby…” She huffs, dropping the casserole dish on the counter and turning in his arms. She’s not nearly as excited. “We need to talk about a few things, and I don’t think any of them are very good.”

 

“Alright.” He swallows, afraid their happiness is always too damn short-lived. “What’s troubling you?”

 

“I skyped Anna.” She confesses

 

“I know, she called me. It’s alright, Love. I appreciate you wanting to help us.”

 

“Did you two make up?”

 

“We…well, no. Anna is stubborn and pulled the ‘you’re mean’ card and deflected, but it’s fine, she congratulated us on the baby. That’s enough, I suppose.” He isn’t mollified by any standards, but staying mad at Anna is a losing battle.

 

“Okay, I guess…” She flattens her hands against his chest, staring at her nail beds instead of his eyes. “Ellie…Ellie says she wants to tell her friends I’m her mom. She wants to call me ‘mommy’ now.”

 

“And that’s not good?”

 

“Not before Anna actually meets me, no. She voiced that she’s not okay with me…replacing Elsa and I do not want to…I don’t feel right but if I tell Ellie ‘no’ then what if she never wants to again?”

 

“Well I recommend pleasing Ellie instead of Anna.” He answers, feeling almost betrayed that Emma even consider Anna over Ellie and even more so that Anna would tell Emma this to begin with. “Her opinion means rubbish to us and our family now.”

 

“She is your family, and she’s Ellie’s.”

 

“She needs to bloody well prove that.” He argues, his flesh heating in the worst way over it. “And I don’t want to refer to this as replacement, you know that.”

 

“I do, but it doesn’t change that it is.”

 

“It’s not.”

 

“Killian…it is. No matter how many talks we have about them, which to be honest, aren’t very many, I’m still taking her place.”

 

“No, we’re creating a new place for us. Ellie’s heart is big enough that we all get our own damn place Emma.” He drops his arms from around her, stepping away to breathe. He doesn’t expect his blood to rise like this, but the collar around his neck feels like a choke chain the more they speak about it.

 

“Okay, Baby. We all get our own place.”

 

“If you don’t want this anymore, that’s fine. We’ll tell her you changed your mind again, but—”

 

“Whoa.” She stops him with her hand tugging at his wrist. “I never said that. I have never changed my mind about that little girl. I want this forever. I want to be her mother.”

 

“Don’t place Anna into this like she’s sleeping in our home and existing in our world. She doesn’t get an opinion Emma.”

 

“Killian, Elsa is her sister.”

 

“And she’s supposed to be mine.” He grits through his teeth, snatching his hand from hers and stomping away to the bedroom.

 

Of course it’s covered in boxes. Emma apparently has been on a packing spree all morning which is much more organizing than he’s seen her do their entire relationship. She packed the items on the dresser, Elsa’s jewelry box sitting in one of the cardboard boxes on their bed.

 

Anna was supposed to take it with her, it was for her. It’s decorated with a snowflake and the engraving _‘Qui Vivra Verra’_ in script. Their mother bought it before their fateful trip. It’s the last thing he should be toting around. They aren’t even his fucking memories, but Anna left with nothing, she left everything and everyone behind. He wonders if Emma already found the few boxes still packed from Anna’s room in their house. He wonders if she went through the memories only to find that Anna shed her skin before starting her new life.

 

Anna doesn’t give a damn about the way her absence has affected them, so why should he care if they move on, to be happy, how does a family she abandoned affect her now?

 

“Is that hers? Elsa’s?” Sometimes it hits him that she’s saying her name and has never actually met her. He knows they’d get on just fine. Elsa’s always liked the calmer company. She says she has enough ‘bubble’ in her life with Anna in it. Emma’s personality is perfect, and they’d companion quite well.

 

He turns, holding the silver box out for her.

 

“It’s a pretty song, what is it?”

 

“Für Elise” He answers as she opens it and lets the tune out. “Ellie thinks it’s ‘for Eloise’ so please don’t tell her otherwise. It’s what makes her want to be a ballerina.” She breaks into a laugh, watching the tiny figurine dance as the sound chips away at his heart.

 

“I’m sorry, Killian. I don’t want you to be upset, especially not with me. And I would just—”

 

“I’m the one who should be sorry, and I am. I just, I guess I try not to deal with the abandonment issues I’ve always had, and remembering how Anna left before their bodies were even cold, it brings it all to the surface. I shouldn’t have behaved that way. Please forgive me.”

 

“Of course.” She implores him to remember she loves him with a simple ‘of course’ and then she’s shutting the jewelry box and setting it back on the dresser before rushing to him. Her arms around his waist feel grounding, like he’s not alone and he’s never going to have to be alone again. It’s like he won’t wake up cold and hungry again, and he won’t wake up disoriented and afraid of what the future holds.

 

He runs his hands through her hair, pressing their foreheads together and trying to find his center of gravity within her embrace.

 

“Did you have a third problem, or did I imagine that?”

 

“Yes, I did.” She presses her lips to his once, twice, three times before continuing and each time it builds a bit of his armor back up, protecting the lost boy he once was from getting broken again. “I am going crazy packing and being a stay-at-home mom.” She pulls back to meet his eyes.

 

“You’re not a ‘stay-at-home-mom’” he reminds her. “You’re not required to pack anymore; I can do it in the evenings.”

 

“You work all day, I just take Ellie to school and pick her up, preparing nutritious snacks I’ve found in this month’s issue of Martha Steward Living. It’s practically my job to be a homemaker.”

 

“Will you stop?”

 

“Do you want a housewife or not?”

 

“I want you. Just you. I want to come home everyday to you. I could care less what you do all day.” She rolls her eyes despite how sincere he was attempting to come off as just now. “Do you want a job? I’ll hire you at Jolly Roger.”

 

She pretends to contemplate it for a moment “I think I’ll interview at that other boat place in Boston. The one with the hot, American CEO.”

 

“Did you just say boat?” He makes a show of releasing her from his arms.

 

“Oh, is that not what they’re called?” She’s batting her long lashes and smiling coyly as he moves across the room to take off his jacket and tie from work. “Whatever do you call them?”

 

“Shouldn’t you be making our dinner, dear?” He challenges with a raised brow as he begins to sensually unbutton his dress shirt. He slides his tongue over his teeth as she watches him strip. “Or uh, bringing my martini?”

 

“Oh, honey you’re going to have to unbutton more than your shirt to get me to make you one of those.” She saunters out of the room and he finds himself falling more and more in love with her everyday. She’s everything, from comedic relief to a beacon of hope to a solid rock to lean on. “I love you!” He shouts after her. It’s quiet for a brief moment, her feet no longer moving across the hardwood. Suddenly her voice erupts with a loud ‘I love you too!’ And his heart loses it’s ability to hurt over anything for the rest of the night. She’s everything. Point-blank.

 


	15. Portraits Depicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it’s been forever. I think the size of this chapter makes up for it. Hopefully? Thanks for reading and thanks for all the comments and bookmarks and kudos, too! 
> 
> Special thanks to RavenclawPianist for being my beta!

Portraits Depicted

Emma can tell summer is over and they are well into the school year when Ellie brings home a birthday invitation. She’s been making so many new friends and has a new story each day to tell her. She picked her up from school one day last week to find her with the largest smile and handcrafted invitations that look like they’re made by Martha Stewart herself, complete with glitter AND lace. 

She tries not to bang her head against the steering wheel as Ellie enthusiastically rants on about Gabby’s beautiful mother Jaz and how big her birthday party is going to be. 

She supposes she should feel better than she does, given Ellie is a very well-off child and had a very extravagant birthday herself, but somehow hearing about another pair of perfect parents makes her cringe. It could be the fact that Ellie switches between ‘Emma’ and ‘Mommy’ in the middle of conversations and the curious glares she gets always make her pores perspire. She spent her life feeling inferior to others for one reason or another, and despite having the best boyfriend any of these women could dream of, catching the belly-left hand-belly scan never ceases to diminish her self-worth. 

Of course she’s just overjoyed that the day has rolled around to take Ellie to Gabby’s house and Killian won’t be home in time to go with them. He has a rule, of course, when it comes to Ellie sleeping over somewhere new. He actually has several rules and all include Emma walking inside the home and conversing with the parents. It’s not that she’s opposed to knowing exactly where Ellie is and who she’ll be with. She just wishes he was the one to be finding all these important facts out.

“Bug are you almost packed?” And if it were any other five-year-old, she’d probably be doing the packing herself, but Eloise is very much like Killian and has been planning what to pack for days. Emma enters her new bedroom at their house, a laundry basket propped against her hip. Ellie has pulled out two pairs of socks, two pair of underwear, leggings, pajamas, jeans, a ‘paint’ shirt, a sweater dress, a couple of screen-printed tees and a cardigan. She’s also pulled out her ‘travel’ tooth-brush and toothpaste, her travel hair brush, her travel hair elastics and a small travel-sized sunblock. “Holy Guacamole, that’s a lot of stuff for a 16-hour sleep-over, babe.”

After she finishes giggling the way she always does when Emma says ‘Holy Guacamole’ she manages to nod proudly as she scans over her bed, more than likely doing a quick mental checklist. “I like to be ready for anything. You know that.”

“I appreciate that, truly, but maybe we don’t need to bring sunblock since you guys are staying in the house, and it is October. Perhaps, we don’t need two outfits when we are picking you up in the morning anyhow, and here’s a thought, of course, tell me if I’m wrong, but you may only need one or two hair ties, not all twenty.” Emma suggests and Ellie kindly considers what she’s said for all of a minute before disagreeing humbly. 

“No, I think I should bring all of it. Maybe we go to her backyard and it’s a sunny day. My dad would want me to wear sunblock.” She explains. “And, plus, what if maybe I spill something or hold it for too long before going potty and only pee a little bit. I would need another pair of underwear. Oh, and what if my socks get wet on—uhm on a melted ice cube? You know I hate wet socks, Mommy.” She’s so serious and to be honest, Emma melts every time Ellie calls her ‘Mommy’ so the discussion was won on that alone. 

(She hopes she gets used to it soon because she can’t just give into a little girl’s every wish because of the way her chest blooms with a bright warmth.)

“I know you hate wet socks.” Emma replies, letting Ellie win as she concedes in the form of moving to Ellie’s closet to put the laundry away before they leave. 

“What are you doing?” Emma chuckles in reply because it is very apparent after all. 

“Putting your clothes away.” 

“Don’t do that, Daddy says he does not want you to do that ‘cause you have my baby sister in your belly and he just wants you to not do laundry.”

“Well Daddy isn’t here and I had nothing to do today until picking you up, so I did laundry and your baby sister is just fine.”

“I don’t want you to do it either,” Ellie whines. “Just only be my mommy, you don’t have to do chores ‘til after my baby sister comes out.”

“Ellie, I can do chores and still be your mom,” Emma groans, annoyed that Killian would even rope her into thinking pregnancy prevents her from functioning. 

“But uhm, Unc...Daddy hates sharing laundry. He just folds up the stuff you already folded. So don’t even do it ‘cause he will just do it too. Just only be Emma. Don’t be him. He will be him,” Ellie instructs her like the roles are reverse and she’s the child. “It will be better ‘cause you don’t have to do no chores.”

“Listen kid, next time he tells you to tell me something, you say ‘I’m five, tell her yourself.’ Savvy?” Maybe it’s juvenile to go as far to imitate Killian’s voice and stupid nautical nonsense at the end, but Ellie responds as she always does for him. 

“Aye.” 

-/-

Gabriella’s house is beautiful. Her mother, though? The most gorgeous model Emma’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. She’s not condescending, just sassy, and Emma finds she likes Jasmine Gazeem very much for her being a PTA mom. 

Ironically, the other mothers who are usually lingering in the parking lot in the mornings are quick to drop their kids at the door and leave. Emma was almost embarrassed to express she’d like to get a quick feel of where Ellie would be overnight. Jasmine was kind and understanding, giving her a tour of their home, introducing her to her husband, Ali. He’s equally beautiful, and his personality reminds her fondly of Killian’s. They are younger parents, Gabby being their middle child, her older sister is ten and named Annalise and her one-year-old baby brother is Edden. 

Finding out Jasmine was a teen mom is not only a breath of fresh air in such a stale society, but simultaneously a punch to the gut when realizing that she managed to survive teen pregnancy without opting out of teen parenthood. 

She tells herself Jasmine had Ali there, and her father and a support system, and maybe if she had just one person things could have been different, but thinking things like that only hurt her more. 

“Mommy, are you sad?” she didn’t realize Ellie had come back downstairs from putting her bag in Gabby’s room. 

“Sad you won’t be home for pancakes tomorrow,” Emma replies, slowly lowering herself to Ellie’s level. “What does Killian say right now?”

“Be good, be kind, member my manners, go to bed on time,” Ellie recites. “He says it rhymes but not really. I will do all those things. I promise.”

“Good girl. I love you more than anything, Ellie. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. I miss you and my baby sister and my Un…uhm…my daddy,” she presses a quick peck to Emma’s nose before pulling back with a wide grin. “Love you to the moon. Bye Mommy.”

“Bye Bug.”

-/-

 

The last five weeks have been absolutely wild. Summer’s long gone, and they’re moved in and almost done renovating. The kitchen was a nightmare on speedy little wagon wheels thanks to Emma and her hormonal ambition. He had to sit in on a few meetings with the contractor to keep the poor man from leaving in tears, but they finished ahead of schedule and under budget. 

His Swan is a fierce one, and he thinks she may have found her calling. 

He finds her flipping through catalogs at their recently installed kitchen island. He’s found the best of both worlds in it, it’s virtually maintenance free with all the luxury of a grand marble. It’s also a third of the price. Turns out Swans are not only fierce, but cheap as well. She actually managed to do the full kitchen for half as quoted by said trembling contractor. 

“Hello, beautiful,” he smiles as she glances up at him, and she returns it in kind. Things have been very good between the two of them, every smile has it’s equal from the other and it’s harmonious as heaven, living in a larger space with her. Her side of the closet is actually very organized these days, she keeps the wet towels in the hamper and after installing the farmhouse style sink in the kitchen, she pre-washes every dish like it’s second nature. 

It’s almost a dream, how she’s still her to her core, but so willing to adapt to avoiding these little ‘ticks’ that make the skin on the back of his neck heat and itch on sight. 

So of course he asks himself what he’s done for her lately. She doesn’t stall her page flipping, doesn’t wait for him to approach with a kiss, and doesn’t seem too excited that Ellie is out for the night and they’ll have a Friday all alone for the first time in too long. 

“Do I make you happy, Swan?” she glances up at him again. 

“Of course,” the words leave her lips with no hesitation at all, but it’s still falling short. He continues to study her, wait for the smile to break and the gates to open and for her to be honest. She rarely holds back on displeasure where he’s involved. He can recall every complaint since they met. 

Yet there’s something she’s not saying and he can sense it in the way she’s breathing.

“You’re sure?”

“Why are you asking me this, don’t I look happy? We’re happy. Are you happy?”

“I’ve told you often enough that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” Her lashes flutter against her cheeks as she takes in a deep breath. Dropping the catalog and rubbing her hands against her thighs. 

“Me too,” she replies a moment too late and now his concern kicks in. “What do you want to do for dinner?” 

“To talk about this,” he drops is keys on the counter and begins to loosen his tie. “You don’t seem happy, love.” She rolls her eyes and grabs his hand like it’s a bit of an inconvenience to constantly reassure him she’s not leaving. 

“My life is full of things I never thought I’d have. I have you, who I love very very much, I have Ellie, who I live and breathe for, and we’re getting a dog on Sunday. Oh, and we’re having a baby, a baby that we can afford to take care of. Everything I could ask for is right here in this beautiful home. I couldn’t be happier.” 

She gets misty-eyed as she smiles, her hand smoothing over her stomach beneath the lace blouse she’s wearing. She has this ‘glowing and pregnant’ vibe but the tears filling her eyes don’t seem so joy-induced as they continue to rise.

“I love you very, very much as well,” he comments, dropping her hand to wrap his arms around her, placing a kiss to her brow. “Very very very much.”

The silence is a bit uncomfortable, and he feels her muscles jump to move from him. So he lets her go. He gives her distance, walking around the island to check the calendar on the fridge. 

“How was drop-off?” he asks when once again reminded that Ellie has a slumber party this weekend at her new friend’s home. “Did you meet Gabriella’s parents?”

“Yes. They’re really nice and Ellie couldn’t say goodbye to me fast enough. I gave them my contact number and yours. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” she continues to flip through the pages completely underwhelmed by the conversation. 

“Are you ready for the photos tomorrow?”

“Not particularly,” she mumbles beneath her breath, sparing no glance, no thought to him. 

“Do you want me to cancel?” he asks, suddenly exhausted by their exchanges. “If you don’t want this, if you don’t want any of this, just speak up.”

And he realizes, when she finally makes eye contact, that he may be more upset than he noticed. He’s upset with himself when he hears her talk about her day to day events. She always sounds so miserable talking about PTA meetings Mary Margaret has encouraged her to join, or the moms at ballet. There’s a bloody bake-sale next week she’s been losing sleep over and he wants to tell her to stop. He wants her to parent how she wants, but she won’t. She won’t be herself these days where Ellie and the ‘Moms’ are involved and he knows why.

He suffered the same syndrome when Elsa and Liam passed. Hell, he was still knee-deep in the need to perform when he met her. But he met her and he realized Ellie loves him just fine the way he is. He doesn’t need to stress over organic vs regular or 2% over whole milk. That’s not his biggest concern. She helped him see how ridiculous he was being, and when she’s braiding Ellie’s hair, and unbraiding it just to braid it again because one strand slipped from her grasp, he wants to tell her by 3pm the whole damn thing will be a mess of tangles.

A woman who left dirty towels on his hardwood floors in their bedroom and ate every meal out of coffee mugs is now pre-washing his dishes and labeling the spice cabinet for something to do and he made her that way. 

Of course she’s bloody miserable.

“Calm down,” she warns softly. Calm down? He thinks to himself because is he anything less than calm, or is she just sedated by the monotony he threw her into? Maybe he always wanted a housewife beneath it all. Maybe he molded her into this. Maybe it’s 6 months after the baby’s born and she throws her hands up and walks out.

“Swa—”

“Let me make you dinner. You seem really tense,” she’s slipping cautiously from the barstool and making her way to him and he gets the urge to move. He doesn’t want to be coaxed into ignorance by her again. He wants the opportunity to fix whatever it is making her so melancholy. 

“That’s just it, love. You don’t cook. What are you talking about?”

“I do cook.”

“Since when? Since you decided to make yourself into someone else?”

“Why are you attacking me for trying to make you happy?”

“I’m not attacking you. I just would be happier if you didn’t change yourself for me when I fell in love with you before you knew what a colander was.”

“Will you stop trying to pretend it was love at first sight. That’s too cliché, too mushy,” she deflects. 

“Swan?”

“Jones?” And he guesses that’s how he knows something’s wrong. Because her little smile usually shakes him up inside, and now it just seems lackluster. “If you don’t want me to cook, we should go out for dinner, like two people in their twenties when they’re dating.”

She’s the toughest lass he knows, the hardest shell to crack and when she doesn’t want to spill her secrets, she won’t. He’s not going to tire himself out prying. He’ll wait until she’s ready.

“Seven sound good?” he asks, his heart leaving the conversation as his eyes wander and his fingers find the delicate face-framing tendrils of hair. Maybe it is him, when he catches a wider smile splitting her lips and baring a resemblance to what her happiness looks like. Maybe he got a wild hair up his arse and is making conflict up because they’ve gone too long without it to not question when their bliss will break again. 

“You’ll pick the place?” he nods and she doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck, showing her gratitude with lingering peck to his lips. His stomach still flutters when her nose grazes his and the tender intimacy is never lost on him. 

Perhaps it is him. When she’s close like this, causing the same reactions she always has, it’s hard to think she’s changed much at all. 

-/-

She’s not sure why she suggested going out. The idea of getting dressed up these days is instantly a remorseful one when she remembers the belly. 

How awful is it that she avoids full-length mirrors because of this thing? She knows she should love her belly. Her belly is her child. 

She hates it.

As if it’s not enough to feel like a double-wide trailer squeezing into a motorcycle’s parking space, it’s also a constant reminder of her last pregnancy. And to be honest, she hates herself for the moments she allows herself to forget. She’s always treated guilt as a punishment, and when people don’t have it, they haven’t truly established remorse for what they did. She just isn’t sure if her self-inflicted punishment will affect her family. 

Killian’s not wrong. She is unhappy. It’s just not anywhere close to being his fault and she does love him, more than words could express, and she would rather pretend she’s someone else, pretend they’re so incredibly happy than ruin anything she has now with the regret she’s grown accustom to. 

So she’ll try harder to hide it and hope he thinks he was wrong all along. 

-/-

“Darling, it’s five after, are you ready?” 

She’s still sitting in a bath towel when he comes in. It’s cute how he’s so anal about time and she’s a hot mess. She does have her make up on, and her hair is done. (She’s not doing anything to it, but it’s done, nonetheless.)

“Uhm…”

“Swan, we said seven.” 

“It’s alright. I just have to find something to wear that isn’t you know…a tent.”

“What about the dress I bought for you last week? With the—” 

“Big bow in the front like I’m a huge present?” He bought her another ‘tent’ that has no shape and a green sash that wraps above her belly like it’s someone’s birthday and she’s the car parked outside. 

“I love that dress on you. The emerald bow brings out the gem-like quality of your eyes. You’re stunning in it, really.” He meets her eyes through the full-length mirror she’s standing in front of. She sees him shuffle closer behind her, anticipates his hand reaching for her waist and maneuvers away, spinning on her heels to meet him face to face. 

“Get out so I can get dressed,” she orders. He actually chuckles quite loudly at that. 

“Swan, I’ve seen every bit of you. You are pregnant after all.” Yeah, she knows. That’s why she wants him to leave. 

“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” she may be a tad dramatic as she mimes rubbing a larger belly than her own. His smile dissolves rapidly. His eyes sobering from the playful light they just carried and he’s staring at her like a wounded orphan again. “I’m kidding. Just, let me get ready without you silently rushing me.”

“Emma, you’re beautiful,” he reminds her. He says it twice, maybe three times a day. It’s sweet, she knows he’s sincere, but it doesn’t make her feel any smaller. 

It’s the season change that’s really got her in this funk. She got pregnant in the spring and only wore summer dresses the last few months during the initial weight gain. It’s colder outside now and she doesn’t have a pair of jeans that fit, and she’s not buying maternity anything, because the idea of a thick elastic waistband makes her feel like the least sexy person in the world. 

She’s been wearing a lot of tights and leggings that ride down the second she takes a step in them and old yoga pants. She feels the eyes on her when she’s picking Ellie up from school or taking her to ballet. The moms are quiet now when it comes to her, but their judgmental eyes speak louder than their shrill voices ever could. 

And then of course Ella is going to come over and take photos of the thing she’s trying her best to camouflage and post them to her site. And Killian? He wants to post them all over the walls of their home. She knows she could have just said no, but he really wants to hang photos of their family and she couldn’t take that away from him. 

(Doesn’t help that Elsa had a maternity shoot and he thinks on some level they still have to live in their shoes and follow their footprints no matter where they lead.)

“Thank you. Please leave for a few minutes.”

“Emma?” And she’s not sure why the hell he’s fighting her on just walking outside of the fucking door for five minutes, but she’s already too exhausted to discuss this one more second. 

“Killian, I’m not going!” she shouts, flinging her hands up, causing the towel to unravel. It’s not that she ‘panics’ but she suddenly feels overwhelmed and overexposed. It’s a rush to cover back up. 

“Emma, look at me,” he pleads as she’s frantically trying to rewrap the towel and scurry off to the bathroom. He grabs her before she can make it out of arms length and it’s too much to tug away now. “Emma, I love you, you’re absolutely perfect to me. You don’t have to hide.” 

“I’m not absolutely perfect to myself though,” she confesses, frustrated that every man thinks their attraction to their partners should just be enough for them. It’s not enough for her. 

(It’s a lot. She’d be a complete wreck without knowing that, but it’s not ‘enough.’)

He keeps watching her with pity and it makes her angrier than she should be at him, so she uses extra energy and tugs from his grasp. He pulls his hands to himself, dipping his head in shame because he knows damn well that was pity, and it’s something he promised to never give her. 

“What can I do?” he whispers. 

“Leave so I can get dressed.”

And he does, he follows command and slinks out of their bedroom like a dog with his tail between his legs. And it doesn’t help her any. 

-/-

All through dinner he watches her. He watches the way she pretends nothing happened. He watches the way she laughs and smiles and the way she radiates. She ended up going with the dress he bought her, and strangers are complimenting her on the street over her beauty. She’s a very gorgeous woman, pregnant or not. 

And she acts like she knows it. 

Now they’re back home and her shoulders drop, her lips don’t curl, her eyes don’t shine. It’s like this house is a jail cell and he wonders what he did to her asking her to move in with him. 

“We’ll go out more, if you’d like. We could go to some shops tomorrow, get you something else to wear for these dinner dates?” She ignores him, moving into the bedroom as he double checks all the entry doors. (Living in a house makes his nightly checklist a little longer but the security system he had installed helps him sleep better about it) “Emma?”

“Sure,” she calls back, completely underwhelmed. 

“Great,” he mutters to himself. 

By the time he reaches the bedroom, she’s wearing his lightweight plaid button-up she’s taken to sleeping in the last few weeks. 

He bought her three more for her birthday in a few weeks, but he’s letting his scent ‘ferment’ in an airtight bag he sprayed his cologne into so they give her the same sense of comfort she claims only his shirts can. He considers it the most arrogant thing he’s done, but she promises that’s the only reason she wears it over her own sleep wear. 

“Can I take care of you?” she stalls as she’s wiping off her make-up in front of the large mirror in their bedroom. She never goes into the bathroom to do her hair or make up and he’s not unnerved by it, just in confusion. He asked if she wants to get a vanity, the master suite is large enough to fit one, but she’d rather just sit with her legs ‘criss-cross-apple-sauce’ as Ellie would call it and prepare in front of the mirror facing his side of the bed like she still lives in that shoebox she moved out of. 

“You want to help me take my make up off?” she glares through the reflective glass. 

“If that’s what you want. I was thinking… a back massage? Maybe a foot rub? I could do all three.”

“No thanks. I don’t need any of that,” she’s already redirecting her focus and dismissing him like she honestly thinks the conversation could just end here.

He crouches beside her, sweeping the hair from around her shoulders to hang down her back. “Why are you being like this toward me? What did I do wrong?”

“I’m not being like anything,” she shrugs, tossing one wipe in the trash and pulling another. “It’s not always about you. Sometimes you can be happy in one aspect of your life and miserable in another.”

“And you’re miserable?” he replies so quickly it sounds like an echo. “With…how—  
Why? What’s upsetting you?” 

“Maybe miserable is a strong word,” she backtracks but his heart is flooding his eardrums with the incessant beating and his eyes are burning at the frightening thoughts flickering through his mind. “And I’m not saying I’m miserable. I’m just saying, if I wake up some days feeling less than happy, it doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. You know how you treat me. You know you’re good to me.” She leans into him, looking at him like she’s still his and he has the sudden urge to make her prove it. 

“I could treat you even better. Let me take care of you.” She tosses the second makeup wipe and makes direct eye contact with him. 

“What would you like to do for me?” He rises from is crouched position, his knees happy for the reprieve. 

“Perhaps a massage, perhaps more if you’re willing.” He extends a hand to her and helps her to her feet. She slides her hand down his arm when they’re eye-to-eye. 

“Okay.” 

He doesn’t hesitate to set her on the edge of the bed, shoulders facing that very mirror she utilizes so frequently. Perhaps he has plans to utilize it tonight for other purposes than makeup application and removal.

Killian holds up a finger, asking her to wait while he jogs to the en suite to grab the baby oil. He comes back to see her eyes narrow at the bottle in his hand. “An oil massage. You’re worth it.” She rolls her eyes but begins to unbutton the plaid shirt without the same fear in her eyes she had earlier today when her towel slipped. He wants to light some candles, but this wasn’t well planned and if she’s willing to undress for him, he’s not going to risk stalling and her changing her mind. 

He climbs behind her on the bed, letting her scoot further back between his legs. She’s only dropped the shirt to fall just below her shoulders. “Darling I need a little more. Just…take this off for me.” 

“Can we…uhm…turn off the lights or…?” He begins to move and she stalls him with a hand on his hip. “Just keep my bedside reading lamp on. We can turn the rest off.” He silently agrees, slipping from behind her and shutting off the ceiling light, the bathroom light and his bedside table lamp on the way back to his position behind her. “S’that better?”

“Thank you,” she whispers, slowly continuing to unbutton the rest of her shirt. He finds her wrist, tugging the trusty hair tie she always holds there from it. He’s thrown Ellie’s hair up enough to be able to handle tying Emma’s up to keep it from getting oily. 

“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he breathes against the soft skin of her back, his lips puckering every other inch as he works his way from one shoulder to the other. Once the last button is released, he’s pulling the shirt from her completely, leaving her in nothing more than a pair of lace boy shorts.

“Why are we doing this in front of a mirror?” she huffs a fragile breath when he’s lips reach her neck. 

“I want you to see you as I see you,” he smiles at her through their reflection as he leans back and pours a bit of oil in his hands. “Any extra tender places I should be aware of?” His hands glide over the expanse of her shoulder blades as she shakes her head in reply. He knows she gets lower back aches from sitting in certain chairs, so he takes his time working his palms along either side of her spine. She moans and sighs gently in tandem when he gets to her trouble area, dropping her chin to her chest. 

“That feels really good actually.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah, I mean, sometimes you’re afraid to break me but you’re using the right amount of pressure and it feels really good.” 

He’s not ‘afraid’ to do anything. He just thinks she’s a little careless with her body at times and he is inclined to disagree with some requests she’s made physically. At their last appointment, however, Emma was still cleared to have sex and Whale actually told him the more interesting situations are usually the most comfortable for her right up to ‘bending her over the couch.’ 

He takes her comment in stride, deciding to show her how fearless he is. Her back is serviced, but there’s more oil to spill in his hands and rub her down with. He gets a second helping and starts to work at her shoulders, creeping forward to her collarbones. She rolls her neck, dropping her head to his shoulder. Her chest is unguarded for him to explore but he takes his time, watching the rise and fall of it in the mirror and anticipating her eagerness by her breathing patterns. His fingers brush against the very start of her breasts before retreating to smooth oil down her arms. 

“Baby?” She hums softly as he jumps from caressing her arms to caressing her stomach. 

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m not tender anywhere tonight,” she reminds him. “And I’m not even tired.”

“Is that so?” he gives the lady what she wants, at a slow pace of course. His hands slide gradually from her stomach, finger pads pressing against her ribcage as he arrives where she wants him. He’s not exactly gentle, making sure to massage the oil into her skin, he makes her breasts his main focus, caressing and cradling, teasing the nipple, playing it all up to the sounds she’s making in satisfaction. 

He genuinely wants her more as each second passes. He wants her wholly and he’s not sure his words could ever convey how marvelous she is to him. So he tries a few more actions to prove it. He keeps one hand fondling her, while another smoothly glides back over the belly and chooses then to press his growing bulge into her back. 

“Killian?” she laughs something so deep and throaty it clenches at his gut. He can’t help but chuckle in reply. 

“Doesn’t take much from you to get me there, Swan,” he buries his grin in her neck, allowing his teeth to graze the tender flesh until the laugh leaves her throat, in it’s wake is something much more breathy and hot. “Heaven help me, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever gotten to touch.”

She lifts her arm to grab a fist full of his hair, angling her head and tugging his just right to steal a kiss. It’s one of the best they’ve shared in a long while, full of passion and wanting. God, does he want her, but he wants her to see for herself exactly why. He rips his lips from her on a rare sliver of self-control. He pulls back panting out a request that she view herself in the mirror. She’s forthright with her reluctance but follows directions and meets his eyes again in their reflection. 

“Atta lass,” he murmurs, tugging her hands from him and guiding her to touch herself. “Give us a show, gorgeous.” God have mercy, she does. She fondles her own chest now, biting her lower lip and shutting her eyes in pleasure. Her breath comes out faster, heavier and his heart beats through his own chest and against her spine, he knows it. 

It’s when he begins to let out harsher breaths of his own that her eyes flutter open once more, catching contact with his own. She licks her lips as one hand travels down her stomach with purpose. She tugs at the lace garment keeping him from seeing everything, she plays with the waist band and waits for him to react. 

“Go on, love.” 

“Well…how fair is it that I’m giving you a show and you’re sitting fully clothed?” He doesn’t hesitate, leaning far enough away from her to unbutton his own dress shirt, flinging it across the room without a care. He’s as eager to see her continue as some 16-year-old virgin with his first peek at a woman’s chest. 

“Go on, then.” She laughs again and he’s absolutely mystified by the sound. It’s her true laugh, the vibrant one that finds him tens of feet away in the kitchen while she’s playing with Ellie on the other side of the house. It’s as if nothing ever happened earlier, as if he never upset her, never saw her insecurities. And she is staring straight at herself like the goddess she is. 

And he really shouldn’t think this when he’s rock hard against her back, but perhaps the insecurities she confessed to were nothing more than a scapegoat to keep him from questioning any further. Perhaps there’s a larger picture hidden behind the curtains of a woman who just isn’t happy with her figure. 

Of course, he really shouldn’t consider this, not when she’s proceeding to probe into the depths of her sex. No, he can’t consider much of anything right now, other than how deep she’s willing to go before she lets him take her right here in front of the mirror. 

“Killian…” she whines his name so perfectly, he’s a slave to her without question. The lace keeps him from seeing what’s making her so hot and bothered, but his imagination is a vivid one and he can almost feel her center beneath his own finger tips. He drags them along her thighs, spreading them far enough apart to see the outline of every motion beneath that waistband. 

“Do you understand what you do to me?” he grinds against her again, harder, more desperate. “I look at you, I fall apart.” She bows her back from him, another heavy sigh, and his pants grow tighter by the second. 

“You know what makes me feel really sexy?” she pants out, her wrist movement more prominent now. 

“What’s that darling? I’ll do anything.”

“It’s not what you’ll do.” She tugs her hand free from her boy shorts, her fingers glistening in the low light as she stands and faces him. “It’s what I’ll do, if you just let me this time.” She starts to work at his slacks, lowering herself to her knees. 

And maybe he hasn’t been to keen on her servicing him this way. It seems like a very vulgar thing to ask your pregnant lover to do. He knows she’s not always feeling 100% and it seems selfish. He gets a bit of guilt lodged in his gut in most instances but…

“You promise me you want to do this?” 

“Oh yes sir, I do.” 

…Who is he to deny his pregnant lover a single want?

It’s funny, she licks her lips when her hand cups him through his pants, but his mouth is the one that waters at the sight. She’s tugging at his slacks, and he lifts just long enough to get them down to his thighs. He’s wearing briefs today, and it’s as if she thought he’d be bare beneath because the sight of them discourages her. 

“What’s wrong?” he brushes his hand along the round and rosy apple of her cheek, happy he’s not the only one flustered. 

“I just…I want to appreciate you too. You’re gorgeous, baby. Will you strip down for me?” 

It feels somewhat paralyzing. His heart clutches and then all at once tingles like it’s gone numb. And scientifically speaking, it’s possible it’s beating too quickly, at the rate the world turns perhaps, so fast that he can’t feel a thing. How does she make him feel so bloody excited to do something they’ve done more than enough times? He can only nod, words a distant memory now that he’s lost the ability to articulate.

She moves back a bit, allowing him to stand. He pulls her with him, wanting to see her do the same and shed the last bit of fabric keeping him from heaven. He goes first of course, toeing off his shoes and shucking off his pants. He slips off his socks and winks at her, surprised he can manage anything of the sort when she’s standing before him like this. 

“I always go first,” she reminds him. She does. It’s true. Why stop tradition?

“I need to see all of you Emma, I’m drowning here with desire.”

She considers him for all of a second before tugging her boy shorts down those gorgeous hips and past her milky white thighs to her ankles. She actually giggles, and sure laughs are semi-regular with her, but a giggle is not something he gets everyday. It weakens him to the point of incoherency. He finds himself scratching at his stomach to stop the damn ‘butterflies’ just for a minute, but he can’t. They fly at the sight of her, words be damned. 

“Now you,” she reminds him, but the room is filling with the scent of her and whatever she wanted to do to him is a not as important as the things he needs to do to her. He steps forward and she presses him back. “Fine. I’ll do it.” And with a flash of her teeth her fingers are gathering material and tugging downward, the cool breeze hitting his hard, throbbing cock. She carries the garment to the ground, staying there in that crouched position with her legs spread wide, her sweet aroma filling the air with more thickness than before. 

Her nails scrap down his thighs and he feels his whole body clench in anticipation. It doesn’t take her long. Emma is not the teasing kind and he’s thankful because patience is for the strong and he’s never been close to that when it comes to her. 

She looks up at him with her big green eyes. He knows love and he knows lust and somehow when their eyes meet during intimacy, he is struck by the most powerful combination of the two, he doesn’t know what’s hit harder, his heart or his—Oh, her hand is there so suddenly, her damp breath, the high-voltage space between his tip and her lips feels like a fucking force field shocking him the second she breaks the barrier. 

“Ohhh for fucks sake Emma.” He’s at the back of her throat before he can memorize the glide of her tongue. It’s quite alright, he gets a second chance as she pulls back slowly, almost letting him slip out, but pressing her lips around the tip. He takes a chance, opens his eyes again after them slamming shut the moment she closed her perfect little mouth around him. She’s watching him with satisfaction. When their eyes connect she starts to put on a show, gliding her lips back down his shaft and letting out a throaty moan that reverberates right through him. She reaches for his wrist, guiding his hand to her hair, and he’s not going to thrust into her mouth, he’s not going to use her like that, but when she picks up the pace, he can’t help but tighten his grip in her hair. 

She really gets a rhythm going, nothing in comparison to his heart beat, but more than enough to get him too close to completion. It’s that final hit to her throat that has him pulling away whimpering her name. 

“Come here,” he orders in this froggy groan. She’s tugged from her knees and spun around sharply as he takes a seat on the bed. He licks his fingers, finding it wasn’t close to necessary when they come in contact with her slick cunt. “So fucking wet.” He gasps against her spine as he lines himself up. 

“Fu—” the sound cuts out mid-cry as she slides herself down on his cock. He can see her in the mirror, mouth open wide in ecstasy, and hell if it doesn’t feel good to render her speechless every once in a while. Of course, nothing feels better than the way she feels around him, hot and tight and wet and just so damn perfect he could never imagine another taking her place. 

“Open your eyes,” he reminds her, gripping at her knees and pulling them to rest on either side of his own legs. She complained last time about not being about to see him inside of her because the belly was in the way. This way she sees every inch of him disappear. 

She’s watching them now, he can tell by the lead she’s taking, rocking her hips back and forth like she’s on a bucking bull. He feels his chest swell with pride, completely certain he’s done something right when he watches her watch herself with sultry eyes and a sexy little smile. He knows she’s realizing how absolutely earth-shattering her beauty can be when they’re ‘balls-deep’ so to speak in the throws of passion. She’s tugging the elastic from her hair, letting the messy waves shake out around her shoulders like some sex kitten and the swelling wanders down to his cock now. 

“You’re so bloody sexy, Emma.” His lips feel starved, just thirsting for more flesh he’s yet to have kissed. His heart is galloping, pumping the blood away from his head. He looks back to the mirror through a foggy haze to see her massaging her breast with one hand and working her fingers over her clit with the other, his resolve breaks in an instant. She’s so loud for the first time in the absolute longest time now that there’s no one home and it’s just the two of them. The house echoes with her cursing and moaning.

As close as he thinks he is to euphoria, she still arrives before him with a stuttering ‘Shit’ followed by sliding from his lap to sit beside him. And he gets it, since her 20th or so week, she’s been the type to push away after an orgasm because of discomfort. 

“You okay?” He cups her cheek in his hand as she reaches for his cock, trying to finish him as quickly as she can. She answers his question with a kiss, wet and hot and needy. 

“I’m sorry—I—it jus—”

“You are so fucking beautiful, Emma.” He cuts her off, uninterested in her ever apologizing for climaxing. Her hand slows as she pulls her forehead from his. 

“Guide my hand,” her eyes are equal parts sainthood and sin. She’s the brightest love and the dirtiest lust and he lets it consume him, obeying her without thought. His large hand wraps around hers at his shaft. They don’t break eye contact as they speed up their pace. Each stroke has the feeling in the rest of his body seeming more and more minimal. Her spare hand clutches at his thigh as his vision blurs around the edges, seeing nothing but her. “C’mon, let go for me.” 

Sometimes it’s blinding stars, others it’s this feeling of a release like his soul is exiting his body. Then there’s this moment, where he keeps his eyes on her as the sensation rises, and rises, as he climbs higher and higher, and it’s like nothing else will ever measure up to the way she watches him like he’s someone to worship as well. As he empties himself against his stomach, he feels fuller than he ever has with love for his partner. 

“That was okay?”

“Emma?”

“I’m sorry, it’s like as soon as I come I get…uhm—”

“Shh, I love you,” he whispers, dragging her to press against him again. 

“I love you too, baby.” Her arms fling around his neck, her forehead back at home against his and he thanks his lucky stars that she’s his. “Thanks for making me feel hot again. I don’t mean to be insecure.” 

“Thanks for proving you’re still mine.” He replies softly, drawing circles on her spine. “We all have our insecurities, you know.” 

-/-

Waking up without Ellie on a Saturday is much slower, yet still too early for how late they stayed up. (Killian may have suggested another round.) It’s ten after seven when she eyes the alarm clock beside their bed. She must have set it again yesterday morning while shutting it off because it’s blaring like she has to wake up and take Ellie to school. 

“Swan?” He groans behind her, his nose buried in her hair, his hand resting over his baby.

“Yeah, me too buddy,” she replies, stretching to shut the thing off. He gets so cranky on weekends if he’s up before 9. Ellie thankfully loves her sleep so they all wake up slow like some Jack Johnson song. Only Ellie isn’t here and she can’t wait to pick her up at 11 because Saturdays are never the same without her. 

His arm becomes more possessive when she tries to sit up. He’s the smartest, most mature, responsible man she knows, yet he’s also five-years-old when he wants to be. 

“More sleep. You kept me up too late,” he demands against her neck. 

“Uhm, you kept me up, if I remember correctly. And I remember correctly.”

“How funny that your ‘baby-brain’ doesn’t hinder you the slightest this early in the morning.” She may be using that excuse quite often when she forgets to write they’re out of milk on the grocery list or leaves clothes in the dryer for too long. 

“Yeah, turns out it works better when I’m starving.” She redirects, because Killian Jones will never leave a person hungry. 

“Granny’s?” he is already crawling out of bed stark naked and searching for suitable pants before she can agree. Never mention hunger while Killian is around. “We’ll go shop for some maternity clothes after. Pick Ellie up by 10.”

-/-

They get to the Gazeem household promptly at 10, as promised. He’s a bit taken back because their home is a palace, so ornate and grand. He’s proud of the home he and Emma have together, but Cinderella’s castle may look bleak next to this house.

“Told you it was the Taj Mahal.” She smirks at him before ringing the doorbell. The house is beautiful, but Emma’s smile is a work of art. 

Before he can respond he hears the sound of a thousand girlish giggles and footsteps on the other side of the door. Within seconds he’s face to face with a girl too old to be Gabriella but much too young to be her mother. 

“Why hello there?” He grins.

“Hey!” Emma beams down at the child. “Babe, this is Annalise, Gabby’s older sister. Annalise, this is Killian, Ellie’s…dad.”

“Yay! Parents. I wish it were someone else’s though.” She hugs Emma quickly, as if they’ve known each other for months not hours. “I forgot how annoying I was when I was five. And loud,” Annalise pulls the door open wider just as an older version of the lass strolls up behind her. 

“Ellie is being very good though. She wants to make sure I say that.” The woman grins. “Killian was it? Jasmine, very nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” He replies instantly recognizing her age couldn’t drift too far from his own and the child standing before her seems just a little too old. He catches Emma catching him make the mental note. He knows she’s reading his mind because she falters to reply when Jasmine greets her. “Uh, Emma told me you had a lovely home, but she wasn’t being nearly generous enough with adjectives apparently, this home is phenomenal.”

“Yeah, you haven’t seen the inside. It’s a bit of a chaotic tragedy.” She leads her daughter and the two of them inside. It is a catastrophe, but he sees it’s beauty beyond the forts and board games sprawled out through the play room. 

“Hopefully not because of Eloise.” He knows she’s rather tidy, but that’s when she’s all alone. He prays she’s neat when she’s in someone else’s home playing with children instead of him. Who really knows though?

“She’s the calmest one,” Annalise replies with an exaggerated expression. Being the oldest and annoyed by your sister and her friends is something he can relate to when Anna and Ruby would have sleepovers. It’s no fun and no peaceful sleep. “She can come over like whenever she wants.”

“Anna, why don’t you go help Ellie get her things?” Jasmine suggests. 

“Sure Mom.” Annalise takes to the grand staircase. He suddenly feels thankful they bought a one-story home as he counts the seconds it takes for the child to reach the top. 

“And tell your father to come out of hiding and meet Mr. Jones.” Jasmine calls up with no reply. “I think you two will find you have almost as much in common as your wi…uhm…Emma and I.”

Suddenly he’s struck with a contorted kind of jealously. Did she really tell a woman she’s just met about her son when it took her months to tell him? He doesn’t chance a glance in her direction, thinking it much better to push the torrid emotion aside tan let it cloud his introduction to Gabriella’s father. 

A dark-haired, tan, and rather handsome man descends the staircase with a grin on his face. He gets a few steps from the bottom when he hears the rupture of a dozen tiny voices stampeding toward them, Ellie actually leading the pack hand-in-hand with a smaller version of Annalise. 

“Daddy!” She refers to Emma as ‘Mommy’ more often than she does him with his new title. He trained her against using it when the accident first took place, so he’s not surprised it’s harder for her to adapt. If she never says it and every onlooker thinks Ellie’s mother is shagging up with Ellie’s uncle, it wouldn’t bother him as long as he knew the choice was hers. 

But she wants this, she wants all of her friends to think she’s had a mommy and daddy just like everyone else. He spent over a year telling her it was okay she didn’t, and somehow all that’s gone the moment she learned of the pregnancy. They were a rare pair, a rare trio even, but adding this baby makes her want to be ordinary and he holds a little guilt in that regard.

“Why hello my Love Bug,” he crouches to catch her in his arms when she hits the final step. She releases her friend’s hand momentarily to wrap her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face against the scruff of his jaw. “I missed you so much. I feel as if it’s been days.”

“You went to work very early yesterday. I didn’t even eat breakfast with you.” She reminds him. Not that she particularly has to. He never forgets the days he misses out on seeing her face first thing in the morning. He never forgets missing the sound of her raspy voice wishing him to have a good day. 

“I did, didn’t I? Well, tomorrow morning we’ll eat the best breakfast I will ever make you. How’s that sound?” She answers him with a tight squeeze. “Look at all your friends. Are you going to introduce us?”

“Oh, you haven’t even met Gabriella yet.” Emma comments as Ellie lifts her head from his shoulder. What he really hears is ‘Oh, you really haven’t been around much.’ And maybe it’s his own insecurities because Liam worked two jobs when he was growing up and he spent many hours completely alone. Of course he has Emma to be with Ellie when he can’t, but it doesn’t bother him any less that he can’t. 

As Ellie sets her feet firmly on the ground again, she reaches for who he can presume to be Gabby’s hands. 

“Daddy, this is my Gabby. We’re bestest friends now.” Gabby smiles and waves from only inches away. 

“Hello Gabriella. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You have a cool voice.” Gabby responds. “My grandpa has a funny voice too, but it’s not like yours.”

“No? Is your grandfather not from here?”

“Saudi Arabia.” The man Killian noticed before answers. “To be honest, it’s hardly there anymore. Pleasure to meet you, Killian is it?”

“It is, and you are?”

“Ali.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well.” They shake hands and smile similar grins to one another. 

“Ellie says you’re getting a dog,” One girl comments. 

“Ellie says there’s a baby in there,” Another girl points to Emma’s belly. “And it’s a girl.”

“That’s true. Those are both true statements.” Killian laughs. 

“What’s her name?” A third child asks. 

“We don’t know yet.” Emma replies, smoothing her hand over the belly. “What are your names?”

“That’s Aria, Maddie and Peyton.” Gabby answers for them before scooting closer to Killian. “I have a baby brother. His name is Edden but he’s taking a nap ‘cause we woke him up too early today.”

“Is that so? How old is Edden?”

“Uhm… he’s not even one yet. He’s gonna be one next month but he doesn’t get to have a birthday party like me ‘cause only me and Anna are his friends right now. He’s too little.”

“He’s having a birthday, Gabriella.” Annalise replies with an eye-roll. “He’s just not having a hundred friends sleeping over like you.”

“Oh.” Gabriella settles back beside her sister. “Is the baby gonna have a birthday when she’s born?”

“Yeah that’s what a birthday is Gabriella.” Annalise hisses. “It’s the day you’re born. But mommies are really tired when they have babies. Member Mom looked really bad when Edden was born.”

“Thank you, Annalise. Alright girls, maybe we should all go pack up since it is after ten?” Jasmine suggests. “I’m sure we’ll get another chance to ask Mr. Jones a thousand more questions. Anna, can I trust you to lead the pack?”

“Sure Mom.” She leads the group of girls upstairs. Gabby lags behind to give Ellie a big hug. 

“I’m very happy you came to my birthday.” Gabby loudly whispers to Ellie. 

“Me too! Maybe you can come to my house soon! My mom will bake cookies with us. She used to burn them but she’s good at it now.”

“Wow. Thanks kid.” Emma snorts. 

“Aren’t children just great at remembering everything you’ve ever done in life.” Jasmine chuckles. 

“I will see you at school Monday, Gabby. Love you.”

“I love you too.” Gabby beams brightly, stealing another squeeze from her new best friend before waving at Emma and Killian and running up stairs. 

They stand around for another ten minutes or so discussing the exterior of their lifestyles. Ali owns an investment firm. Jasmine owns a home business selling homemade beauty products such as essential oils, and soaps, lotions and hair care. She sends Emma off with something for stretch marks. 

When they’re back in the car and he’s smothered Ellie in enough kisses to ease the tinge of guilt below his breastbone, he mentions Jasmine again. 

“You uh, you never mentioned that you two had so much in common.” And she’s silent for three stoplights and he’s close to thinking he perhaps didn’t say anything aloud to begin with when she replies. 

“We don’t. She’s a business woman, self-made mom of three. She’s married to her first love and when she got pregnant as a teenager, she kept the baby.”

It takes him another five stoplights to give up trying to think of anything to say in response. 

-/-

The photo shoot is overwhelming at first. It’s a bunch of Ella wanting to get some singular shots of Emma in bundles of tulle and frilly lace and she is practically naked in them. She wasn’t ready. She’s still not ready, but after laying down on the cool quartz counter covered in a white sheet like a pregnant Grecian goddess, she’s finds herself very comfortable being clothed again when they move to the backyard. 

The best idea is the family shots on a picnic blanket. Ella makes Killian bring out his guitar and gives Ellie a body paint set to decorate the belly. They look like a country little family, in her white skirt and blush tank top, Ellie in a white dress and Killian looks like a boy who just left church, his dress shirt and vest unbuttoned, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. She brought flower crowns for the three of them, the laughter entirely genuine when he begins to serenade them wearing one. 

There’s a quick change with Ellie and Emma. Ella brought a pair of her tiniest ballet slippers, Ellie dresses in her swan-lake outfit and Emma is given this feather-trimmed satin robe. She really wishes she paid more attention to ballet techniques, but Ella asks Ellie to perform one, where she’s gracefully posed yet simultaneously bent to kiss Emma’s belly, another where she’s angled to bend so elegantly while offering the tiny white ballet shoes up to her. It would be her favorite, if she were Ella and an actual dancer, but she just feels like a frumpy little thing amongst all of Ellie’s beautiful grace and elegance. Killian says she looked gorgeous, but Killian says the same thing about her waking up with bed head and morning breath, so who is he to trust?

Ella begins to leave after Killian helps her clean up, promising prints within a week or so. He’s glowing in his own paternal little way, and Ellie seems enthused by the whole idea. She’s never known a child to be patient enough to model for 4 hours. She’s not patient enough to model for four damn hours and she’s an adult. 

The worst part of the day wasn’t her discomfort in front of the camera, she actually didn’t feel self-conscious at all about the belly.   
It was Ella asking to shoot in the nursery, and after all the complimenting she did on the design of the home and the creative ability Emma should use to pursue a career in this, Emma has to tell her the nursery wasn’t even painted. Emma had to bear the weight of another judgmental look. She knows Ella means well, she’s excited like every other person in Killian’s life. Emma just feels like every other person in his life, sans his own sister, is more excited than she is. 

She mentioned an early baby shower. She asked when they’ll send out registry notices. Emma thinks the idea of people paying for items Killian can afford is preposterous. How fair is it that when she was pregnant and broke, she had absolutely no one to buy things for her but now that Killian is here, and their child will be well-provided for, there are all these people ready to throw money and gifts at them? 

Maybe it’s the irony of it all that keeps her from wanting any part of it. More than likely it’s the guilt and the unknown probably plays it’s own large part. Between her shower thoughts and her ‘no one’s home and there’s nothing to do’ thoughts, she thinks quite often that she could just be happier with this pregnancy knowing her last one didn’t cast one more unloved orphan into the world. If she could just see him now maybe she’d be better off knowing that he is. 

-/-

“We’re getting a dog today!” Ellie shouts through the house at maybe 8am. Probably earlier. She doesn’t bother coming into their room to say it either. She just keeps cheering at the top of her youthful lungs. God help him, he tries to not groan in annoyance, but it’s a knee-jerk reaction when he’s woken from such peaceful slumber. “We are getting a doggy! Yes we are!” and the voice continues to get closer and closer as she’s marching, actually stomping her bare feet on the hardwood as she descends down the hall toward their room. 

“Eloise Joanna Jones!” He shouts back at the lightly cracked door. She presses it open with a light tap, it creaking as it slowly swings to reveal a fully dressed blonde. 

“Uhm…don’t be mad. I’m really escited.”

“I can tell.” He smiles at her shy, widened eyes. 

“Are you almost ready?” she leaps onto the bed. “I can’t wait even another second.”

“Well, you better.” Emma groans herself now, tossing her body to lay on her other side, facing him with squinted eyes. “Someone promised the best breakfast ever last yesterday.”

“That’s right. I did.”

“But maybe the doggy wants the best breakfast too. We should wait for him.”

“Dogs do not eat people food, Ellie. And if you feed the dog anything from the table he could get very sick. You have to check with us, do you hear me? It’s very important.”

“Yes yes, very portant, no pancakes for my doggy. Okay. Can we go?”

“After breakfast. And your shirt is inside out.” He pretends he only imagined the eye roll that looks too much like Emma’s to be a coincidence. 

-/-

He makes crepes. He fills them with strawberries, bananas and Nutella. Ellie is in chocolate heaven between that and the hot cocoa she washes it down with. 

“Are they yummy, Bug?”

“Yesssss!” She grumbles, animatedly chewing as she playfully wiggles in her chair. 

“Good to hear.” He tucks her stray hairs behind her ear to keep them from getting dirty. “Emma and I were talking and instead of buying a puppy from a pet store, we want you to consider adopting a dog who may be a little older.”

“uh-dopting?”

“You remember we talked about the meaning of adoption when we were at the Home for Little Wanderers. Do you remember what it means?”

“Oh, yes. It’s uhm, when the mommies and daddies cannot take care of their kids cause maybe they have no money or house, or maybe they died.” He fights the cringe when she says the word. He’s been encouraging ‘going away’ or even ‘passed’ but the reality is there in black and white and Ellie knows what it means.

“Right but…”

“Yeah, but then a new mommy or daddy sign papers and now that’s their kid and they get to love them. That’s uh-doption. Right?”

“Brilliant.”

“Did you sign papers for me?” Ellie drops her fork at their hesitation. “Am I dopted?”

He can hear the heavy breath Emma releases on the other side of the table. He can feel it leave his own lungs. 

“Well…no not…no. I signed papers when your parents first went away. But that only makes me your legal guardian. Not exactly your father.” She surveys him silently for a moment, scraping her nails against the glass of their table top.

“So I don’t have a mommy or a daddy still. I just have a garden?” She doesn’t actually wait for him to respond before swiftly turning her head to Emma. “You’re not my mom. You’re just my Emma.”

“No, I’m your mom, Bug. I’m whatever you want me to be. Papers don’t mean anything to me.”

“Then why won’t you sign them. Why won’t you dopt me?”

“I…” And now two sets of tearful eyes are staring back at him. Emma’s jaw trembling to answer but looking to him for the words to say. Ellie watching with anger flushing her cheeks. 

“We’ll go to the lawyer tomorrow.” He replies. “We’ll go and we’ll find out what process it takes to make this all legal. Until then, we’re still your parents Ellie. We still love you just as much. You’re still everything to me.” She nods her small head and sucks in her bottom lip, releasing the stressful breath slowly through her nose. The noise it makes as she does so forces him to realize how quick to tears she is over this matter. 

He’s not sure why he hesitated to adopt her. He’s not sure about Emma’s intentions, but he never meant to leave their lives in limbo. 

“So…we’re okay?” Emma asks softly. Ellie nods, keeping her eyes on her plate. 

“I want to dopt a doggy. I want to sign the papers today, not later saying he’s mine.”

“Okay.” The adults answer in unison. Few things break him as easily as making Ellie feel like for a moment she’s any less wanted than any other child in this world. He wants her more than anything and he can hear pieces of his heart falling to stomach in the sound of her voice. 

“If uh…I… You know Mr. Nolan is a pet doctor right?” Emma redirects.

“Yeah.” She sighs. 

“Yeah, well he’s going to be at this adoption fair he does every other weekend. We can go there and he can help you pick out a very great dog.”

“Okay.” 

-/-

She’s quiet the rest of breakfast. 

She quietly declines Emma brushing her hair. 

She’s quiet in the car and quiet when they get there, and Emma chalks it up to her being sad, until she sees David and is suddenly sunshine. 

“She’s punishing us.” Killian sighs as he watches her give David a huge hug, and he wasn’t even allowed to buckle her in when they got in the car to come here. She threw her hands up and said she was a big girl and could do it herself. Emma watched the way his face fell and his heart broke and now she’s just as bubbly as always. Hell yeah she’s punishing them. “She thinks orphans are children no one wants.”

“They are.” Emma reminds him. That’s exactly what she was, and she grew up to be an adult no one really wanted either until she met them. 

“So every parent who gives their child away doesn’t want them? There are no extraneous circumstances, like perhaps they can’t afford a child? They can’t provide them with love, they died?”

Is he really preaching to her about this?

“Excuse me?”

“Is that what you think? And when you gave Henry his best shot...?”

“I simultaneously gave myself mine.” She snipes. “We’re done with this conversation.” 

He begins to speak but she storms off, her blood suddenly boiling, her eyes stinging and her heart aching. She didn’t come here to be attacked, she didn’t say that to be fucking attacked. How can three people so in love with each other be at such odds over one subject they’ve all been victim to?

-/-

She doesn’t even greet her friend. He has to do it through the misty haze of having the two most important beings to him angry with him. 

“Killian!” David cheers, clapping him on the back as Ellie backs away from them both and turns her eyes to the row of dogs in cages. 

“Hey Dave, how are you this fine Sunday?”

“Trouble in paradise?” David replies with his head hinting toward the bench Emma found to rest upon. 

“We don’t live in paradise.” He replies with a painfully tight smile. “Anyhow, Ellie wants to adopt a dog today. Any assistance would be grand.”

“Of course. I think maybe a large dog, already fixed. Ellie and I are in agreement there huh, Queenie.”

“Yup.” Ellie eases over to the cages, turning back to look at Killian. “Uncle Kilo, can I pet them.” He’s never been so wounded by a sound from her mouth. 

“If Mr. Nolan and the other volunteers say it’s okay, then yes.” 

She looks at several before Emma makes her way back over to them. She doesn’t look in his direction. 

“Emma, I love everybody. What do I do?” 

“I don’t know Ellie, it’s your choice remember.”

“You’re ‘posed to help me.” Ellie pouts. “I don’t want to leave the rest of them here without anyone to love them.”

“Someone else will come by and love them. Is there one you love more than the rest?” Killian attempts, walking over to her and crouching to her level. “Is there one you really want to take home?”

She nods, turning to point at the last cage on the left. “His name is Jakey and he’s a husky and he can talk.”

“Can he? In what language?”

“Yodels.” Ellie smirks. “Come see.” And she goes as far to grab his hand once he rises from his lowered position. She goes as far to hold it tightly as she drags him toward the cage. “He’s pretty and smart and listen…” And she begins to howl something that sounds like ‘Aroo-roo’ and he responds in a howl of the same melody. 

“Wow.”

“Yeah. He’s cute and I love him so much my tummy hurts.” He takes the advantage to kiss her cheek now, now that she’s distracted and so full of love for someone, even if it’s not him. She leans into him, her small hands cupping his jaw when she turns to meet his eyes. It looks a lot like forgiveness, and for that he’s thankful. “Mr. Nolan says I can go into a play pen with him if you or Emma come with me.”

The three of them end up in the pen, Jake taking time to sniff each one. When he finishes he returns to Ellie, nudging her belly with his head. Ellie buries her hands in his fur, rubbing and scratching rapidly until he gets a twitch in his hind leg. The loudest laugh burst from her throat before she smothers him in a large embrace. 

“I love him so much!” She squeals. “I will love him forever and ever. Can we ‘dopt him right now?”

“Sure, just a little paper work and you can go home with him today.” David replies, a grin equally as big as Ellie’s. 

“Okay. I want to sign the papers, ‘cause he’s my doggy and I’m the owner.” She scratches under his chin “And I love you so much, I don’t want to wait a second.”

She doesn’t have to look back at them to indicate she’s still upset. He searches for Emma’s eyes, but she’s a stone wall. 

Things had been so good he went looking for trouble and he found it. 

-/-

She’s avoided saying anything to him the rest of the day. Now it’s half past nine and they’ve managed to go to the pet store, create a pet space for Jake, have lunch and dinner, get Ellie ready for the school week, get Killian ready for the work week and still not have to actually speak to each other. 

And he suddenly thinks they should talk. 

“Emma I’m so—” She glares at him through the mirror she’s sitting before. 

“I’m not interested in having this conversation.” He sits behind her on the bed and her mind goes back two days where she sat on his lap. 

“I’d never force your hand, Love. You know that.” She hears the ‘but’ before he breathes it. “But, we’re entering the 3rd trimester and we have no name, no paint on the walls, no furniture, no conversations about her…”

“We have conversations about her.”

“We need to have a conversation about him.”

She gets a cold chill in her blood again. Everything is pointing toward him, and she knows he knows now. She’s been staring at the horizon for months now waiting on this dark cloud to get them and it’s here now. 

“No.” 

Because she’s always been the tiniest bit afraid of thunderstorms. 

“Swan…”

And he’s there so fucking fearless of the elements. 

“Killian, I’m not doing this now.” She grits through her teeth, clutching onto something so toxic, it’s burning up her insides to hold it all in. 

She holds it in though. 

She holds it in for hours, as they lay awake, neither saying a word, but measuring the depth of the other’s breath, calculating the hours until they stop pretending they’re asleep and get up for the new day. 

“We need to talk about it.” It’s dark now, quiet and chillingly still. His voice doesn’t break the peace, sort of provides a new comfort in it, with the raspy timber that makes her stomach clench. “It’s time to talk about it.”

She turns toward him, giving up the charade. “I’m going to take a few days away.” His eyes are focused on their ceiling fan and she can feel the room tense the moment he does. 

“Why?” he breathes like it’s his last. She never realized how frightening that must sound to a little boy afraid of being left behind. She always forgets he’s that little boy afraid of being left behind, until his walls drop and he shows her how wounded he still is after all these years. 

“Not because of you. I love you, it’s because…”

She’s not the best with words, or thoughts for that matter. She is impulsive and it’s her downfall over and over again, but it’s all she’s got. So when he asks for reasons, she’s at a loss. 

“You don’t just leave the people you love, Emma.”

“I’m just going away for a few days”

“Without the people you love?”

“I can’t take Ellie and you’re always working. I need to do this now, before I bring this kid into the world with a complex. I need to fix this so we can be happy.”

“So what?” He begins, voice jagged and broken. “So you go on this soul-searching adventure and get to the root of your problems. You talk to bloody trees? How do you fix this alone?”

“No. No soul-searching. Have we met?” She snorts and he convulses in disgust that she’d take this lightly. 

“What are you doing then?”

Does she tell him? How does she explain a hair-brained plan she hasn’t come up with too much on anyhow? 

“Going to Maine.” He has a good memory and the gears are turning in his head. He shoots up in less than 20 seconds, eyes blown wide. 

“To see him? Emma…forgive me, once again, I’m no expert in adoption, but I have to assume that’s frowned upon in closed adoptions.”

“I’m just going to make sure he’s not malnourished and covered in bruises or tempted to eat out of the fucking dumpster because it’s been three days since his family fed him like I was. Okay, I want to make sure he’s still got a mom.” The tears come so quickly, she sits up to keep from drowning in the flood. 

She never talks about growing up. Killian’s story is sad and it hurts her anyone could hurt him, but he had someone, and on his worst days, he couldn’t relate to some of her bests. There’s a huge difference between the two of them, and he’s lost so much she knows. She just doesn’t see a point in trading sob stories to compare who had it worse. 

“Emma?” He reaches for her, but it feels like pity. 

“Don’t, okay? I just want to see his face and know I didn’t fuck up his life.”

“Okay.” His hand still finds her despite her warning, he guides her back down to lay beside him, and he holds on as tight as he can. “Okay.” 

‘Okay’ is a far leap from where she’s standing. ‘Okay’ is like the next level of this video game simulation of her life. ‘Okay’ is obtainable, but the worst villain she’s ever faced is currently standing in her way. 

“I’ll go with you.”

“You can’t.” She groans, because they were close to it, coming to this agreement and letting the conversation rest. “I want to be my own hero.”

“Of course.” He presses a kiss to her hair, tightening his arm around her. “I’ll be the handsome sidekick.”

“Killian…”

“I won’t sleep a second without you. I won’t be able to eat. I won’t be able to work. I won’t be worth much without being next to you, knowing you’re okay.” He burrows his nose into her neck, nuzzling as closely as he can. His next words are mumbled between hair and skin. “I need to know you’re okay.”

It most video games, heroes have to fight alone. Maybe a sidekick helps her achieve that next level. Maybe she get to ‘okay’ faster.


	16. Past Revisited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos on this story! Special thanks to RavenclawPianist for being my beta!

 

**Past Revisited**

 

“How come I’m going to Belle’s for so many days?” She’s still insisting on buckling herself in, but she lets him kiss her every time after checking the straps when she finishes. 

 

It’s three days. Three days without seeing her smile, two evenings without kissing her goodnight. He’s done it before, sure, but it doesn’t mean he likes the idea of it. However, when weighing the scale, leaving Ellie with Belle who she adores for a few days is easier than sending Emma out on her own to face her scariest demons.

 

“Aren’t you excited? You tell me you miss Belle all the time.” She tugs the straps for him to see before reaching forward to kiss him first this time.

 

“I love Belle and I miss her very a lot.” She replies when falling back into her seat. “I just wanna know why.”

 

“You use that word quite a bit lately. Watch your hands.” He shuts her car door without answering. They’re about to drop her off and still haven’t expressed why they will be leaving town. He usually likes to prepare her but more over he likes to be honest with her.

 

There are absolutely no parenting books written on this topic.

 

“She all buckled?” Emma appears behind him without sound, and he’s startled half to death. It’s another reminder to keep his thoughts shallow when these two are around. He turns to find her holding her duffle bag and travel tote.

 

“I told you I’d grab those.”

 

“Killian, I’m capable of carrying things. My hands work, my arms work and you’re starting to work my nerves with this.” He doesn’t flinch anymore when she gets snippy. The deeper into the pregnancy, the more irritable she is. She moves toward him as always, a hand gently falling to his chest as if to soothe his heart after lashing out. “Did she go potty before she came out here?”

 

“Yes. We are extremely ready to go.” Not to rush her, of course. He just happened to give Belle a certain time they’d arrive by and every minute inches past that time and into a very impolite tardiness he’d hate to display with a woman doing him such a favor.

 

“Okay, me too.” She shrugs as if she’s not the one holding them up. “If you’d quit harassing me, I’d be able to toss these in the back and we’d have left five minutes ago.” She backs away with a smirk that he savors, certain it could be the last he gets over the course of this trip.

 

-/-

 

“Belle!” Ellie does a dead-fall into Belle’s awaiting arms. “I missed you so so much!”

 

“Oh, I’ve missed you too, Ellie Belly.” Belle coos, squeezing her a moment longer before leaning back to get a look at her. “You must be six inches taller than the last time I saw you.”

 

“Centimeters maybe, certainly not inches.” Killian’s voice sounds so warm beside her. Emma turns to witness a full grin. He missed his friend. Ellie really missed her, and thinking about it, Emma missed her quite a bit too. They had tea a few mornings after she first moved in, when Ellie was at preschool and Killian was at work, and she was trying to adjust to being unemployed and pregnant.

 

Now their closest neighbor is a quarter mile away when Belle was just ten feet.

 

“It’s good to see you!” The brunette beams when she rises to meet Killian and Emma. “I see your place sold quickly.”

 

“Yes, the buyers were eager when I told them my neighbor was a quiet publisher who bakes scones and hosts book clubs.”

 

“Oh, speaking of which, I baked some for you,” she takes Ellie’s hand and rushes off to the kitchen. Ellie climbs up to sit at the bar as Belle serves her one from this platter before quickly placing several into a kitschy pastry box. Ellie didn’t need the slightest bit of prompting, already halfway through hers.

 

“These are so yummy!” Belle smiles fondly at Ellie in pause before making her way with the box back toward them.

 

“Here’s some for your trip. We want to make sure Mommy stays fed.” She doesn’t hesitate to hand the box to Killian so she can use both hands to caress Emma’s belly. She’s not sure if it’s Ellie or this pregnancy, but the boundaries Emma used to set up with people are almost non-existent. She doesn’t mind the hands in the slightest anymore.

 

“Thank you.” Emma whispers, finding herself suddenly emotional. She has to clear her throat and try again, embarrassed that she can’t speak now. “I mean, for you know, everything. These look delicious and also…”

 

“I’m exuberant, truly.” Belle responds instantly. “I get to see my friends and spend a weekend with Ellie. Please don’t thank me, her presence is a gift all its own.” And that’s when she spots it, the crack in Belle’s porcelain. Emma’s not the only one who gets lonely.

 

“What are you two going to get into this weekend?” Killian moves in, keeping things as light as he can.

 

“Oh, well, I’ve got tons of new books to share with Ellie, I was thinking of high tea and a little more baking. Oh, and tomorrow night Grace is coming over.” The last line is directed purely in Ellie’s direction, and she spins around quickly on her stool.

 

“Gracie? She’s gonna be here?”

 

“She sure is!”

 

“Jefferson’s Grace?” Killian’s warmth is lacking in this question.

 

“Yes.” Belle responds as short as she’s ever been.

 

“Since when are you hanging out with Jefferson?”

 

“I never said I was. I said I was hanging out with Grace…tomorrow.” She gives him a tight-lipped grin.

 

“Right, well now I’m asking you, love. Are you hanging out with Jefferson?” And Emma knows this tone. It’s his protective tone and it comes out much more often than it should in any one man.

 

“When?”

 

“Okay, we’ve gotta go.” Emma steps in.

 

“Be careful with that man, Belle. He’s a slick-tongued git like most men and you’re much too intelligent to fall for his double talk, you hear me?”

 

“Ellie, come say goodbye.” Emma continues.

 

“Killian, you are so silly, you know that? He’s _your_ friend.” Belle laughs at him, only causing the vein in his temple to appear.

 

“I’m trying to protect you. We may be friendly, but I’ve played poker with him, and I’ll have you know he normally wins. Only liars win at poker.” Now he’s just talking out of his cute little ass. “You’re a very brilliant woman, and he’s not good enough for you. What happened to that man you had that date with last month?”

 

“That was three months ago and he turned out to be a criminal.”

 

“A criminal?” he whispers and Emma feels as if she’s smashed her head against a stone wall, her head instantly throbbing.

 

“It’s fine, he never knew my address and I gave him a number belonging to a burner phone like Emma suggested. She’s the one who did the background check on him.”

 

“You didn’t tell me?” He scowls like it’s some sort of gossip he missed out on and not Belle’s personal life.

 

“Kiss your kid goodbye so we can go.” Emma groans, turning to Belle and giving her a quick hug goodbye herself.

 

Killian finally drops the conversation as he simultaneously drops to Ellie’s level. “Alright Love Bug, be very good for Belle and if Jefferson comes over, make sure you always sit between him and Belle.”

 

“Will you stop.” Belle laughs. “Jefferson is not coming over, just Grace.”

 

“I love Gracie.” Ellie whispers within a hair’s length of Killian’s nose. “I’m so escited to see her.”

 

“You won’t miss us at all then, will you?”

 

“I will.” She promises, hugging him to shut him up. “I love you so so much, be good, eat your veggies and come back to me.”

 

“Always.” His tone softens just a little. “I love you more than you could imagine, Ellie. I’ll see you in a few days.” Emma looks away to keep from crying. She’s not even going to blame her hormones. She just doesn’t want to say goodbye to her baby girl.

 

Killian’s hand is on her lower back seconds later and she knows it’s her turn. She sucks at goodbyes. It’s not like before. Before she was only around on weekends and now her whole life is Eloise. The last two months have changed what Emma’s day-to-day routine was. Now she never goes a day without kissing her and hardly goes a minute without thinking of her. Now she’s a mother and it’s not as easy to say goodbye.

 

“I love you. I’ll miss you so much.” She sniffles after dropping to Ellie’s level. “But I will be back soon, and I will bring you a big surprise, and the best part about missing you is when I get to see you again.”

 

“Yeah, you will be back soon and give me a surprise ‘cause I’m good.” Her hands tangle in Emma’s hair as she pulls it away from her face and lessens the distance between their noses. She loves Ellie’s close talking, her loud ‘whispers’, her bright eyes causing everything around her face to fade away. “I love you and you’re my very favorite and I will be good and miss you and my baby sister.”

 

“You’re my favorite. I’ll call you when we get there, okay?” She kisses Ellie right between the eyes, clenching her own to keep the tears at bay.

 

“Okay.” Killian’s hand is there to help her up after using all her energy to squeeze Ellie as tight as she can.

 

“Miss you already.” She sniffles once more.

 

“Miss you already.” Ellie echoes. “Don’t carry heavy stuff and feed my baby sister lots of scones.”

 

-/-

 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the criminal Belle was dating?”

 

They haven’t reached the highway yet when he brings it up. She’s sniffing a scone and realizes she’s craving something in the opposite direction, trying hard to focus in on what exactly that is before they have slimmer choices and may be a bit too distracted to make her response sound kind.

 

“Because it’s none of your business.” They had a date scheduled, she suggested Belle let her do a little research. Boom, ten minutes later she realizes he’s jumped bail for a tax evasion charge. Belle drops the phone down the garbage chute and they pretended he never existed.

 

“She’s my friend, Emma.”

 

“You have many friends who never stop talking and yet you’re so interested in the life of the quiet one?” Tacos. She definitely wants tacos. “She lost her husband, and dating is new and she’s shy about it. If she were a better liar, I wouldn’t have known either and she might have been on dateline.”

 

“What kind of crimes did he commit?” Now that she’s figured out what she’s eating, she can hear him better, and she definitely hears his voice go up an octave.

 

“Tax evasion.”

 

“Swan?”

 

“Belle has money. It could have turned into something worse. Who knows?” His hands grip the steering wheel a bit tighter and she starts to notice how upset he is over it. “Why does it bother you that she’s dating Jefferson?”

 

“It’s not Jefferson. She could do much worse than that idiot, but I do stand by my poker statement.” She rolls her eyes with a quickness. “I just feel as if she’s not interested in companionship so much as she’s just…”

 

“Lonely? Yeah, I got that too.” She knows Belle is important to him. He told her once that had he grown up alone like she did, he’d still be alone without any effort on his part. He told her that she’s the likable one in their relationship, and the majority of his friends are only there because they were friends with his family and feel obligated. She knows Robin was Liam’s friend and of course he feels brotherly toward Killian, but ‘obligation’ seems strong. And although Ruby is Anna’s best friend, if she were sticking around for any reason other than Killian, it would be for Ellie and Granny, not Anna. And Ella may have started out as Elsa’s friend, but certain friends become family to your family and that’s what he has with these people in his life.

 

For the life of her, she can’t understand why he’d discredit that.

 

“I’ll make an effort to hang out with her more if it would help you feel better.” Emma offers, partially for Killian, but mostly for herself. She knows lonely and she’s pretty close to it on days she does nothing but wait for Ellie to get out of school.  

 

“It would.” He smiles at her and for a minute her hungry stomach feels full again. “So, you don’t want scones, do you? What do you want?”

 

“Tacos.”

 

-/-

 

It’s eight when they get to Storybrooke, 8:15 exactly according to the wistfully cliché clock tower facing the main road in. He’s well versed in road maps and he has never recalled seeing this place on one once, but it exists and so does the rapid imbalance it brings to his Swan.

 

Her hands shake as the gather their bags from the back of the truck, and he asks her to hold his wallet while he grabs everything else. The argument is short-lived this time, almost non-existent if it wasn’t for that damn persistent eye-roll.

 

He still sees tremors as she hands his card and license to the inn keeper.

 

“Alright Mr. and Mrs. Jones, we have you in room 4” He’s anticipating her reaction to hearing her referred to as his wife. She doesn’t bat an eyelash, just smiles gracefully while taking the old-timey skeleton key and heading toward the stairs.

 

“Mrs. Jones?” He may be taking advantage of her lack of disgust at the inn keeper’s mistake. They’ve never spoken a word about marriage, and there’s nothing more behind his next few words than playfulness and a sliver of curiosity. “S’that something you’d get used to?” She checks behind them like they’re in hiding and rushes him past the landing and to the next set of steps before she speaks.

 

“I don’t want to be ‘Swan’ here. I don’t know if she’s ever seen my file. She shouldn’t have, but maybe she has the same sort of ways I do, ya know? I’m just…”

 

He watches as she fidgets nervously with the key in her hands.

 

“You told her we were married?” his eyes may narrow but even still, she’s too distracted to react.

 

“I could have picked another name, but I thought it sounds better to be taking a trip to a small town as a married couple. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry.” He continues on from the hall they’re occupying to search the door with a ‘4’ on it. It’s at the end of the hall, just beside a large window overlooking the patio seating of the diner downstairs. “What about…a ring?” Once again, he finds himself almost wanting some sort of reaction as she unlocks the door to the room. He gets a careless shrug of her shoulders.

 

“I’m pregnant, they’ll assume my fingers are swollen.” She opens the door to reveal what was referred to online as ‘newly renovated.’

 

It’s a wrought iron queen-sized bed and a vintage television. The bedside tables are something off ‘Antique Road Show’ and the wallpaper reminds him of the stamp pad art Ellie creates whenever she’s in the office with Ruby and Alice.

 

To be honest, it’s despairingly reminiscent of his days sleeping in the studio apartment above Granny’s before Liam met Elsa, when the only reason he wasn’t starving to death was because Liam’s second job as a waiter downstairs ensured him at least one meal a day. It’s enough to break his thoughts away from Emma revealing just how great she was at her job. Her bright hair and pale skin fade from his view when he’s launched back into the dark nights when the curly designs of the bedframe would create shadow demons on the wall. He’s brought back to the days he made promises to his older brother to be brave so they could save on the power bill when Liam was working and Killian should have been sleeping but it had been too many hours since his last meal.

 

“Babe?” He breaks his watery eyes away from the slightly overcrowded space to look at her in response. “Did you hear anything I was saying? Where’d you go?”

 

“Nowhere.” He takes one and a half steps forward to drop their bags on the bed. “What uh, what were you saying?”

 

“I want to call Ellie and go to bed.” They rarely fall asleep before 10 at home, but sure. He tosses her his phone before unzipping her duffle bag to pull out pajamas for her. “Are you okay?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” he chuckles something so dry it leaves his throat scratchy. “I’m just as eager to fall asleep after hearing my daughter’s voice.” He pushes her bag to the side to attack his for the same items.

 

“If you don’t want me to borrow your last name, Killian…”

 

“I don’t care about that. You could have it if you want.” He freezes his movements; he’s certain this is the weight that pushes her button. He looks up to find her undressing, his phone laying on the T.V. “You’re not calling Belle?”

 

“I didn’t realize how early it was. I’ll wait until nine.” Her shirt goes over her head while he’s still talking to her. He can’t stop his eyes from roaming. “Hey Perv.” She flings the shirt at him with a grin so close to perfection he’s stunned out of the mood he was just in.

 

He makes his way over to her, his hands involuntarily gravitating to the baby between them. He feels like he can exhale the harsh memories with his perfect reminder that he’s miles away from a struggling childhood. He’s a grown man with one child and another on the way that he can more than adequately provide for, and any fear of the dark can be fixed with every damn light in the house need be. He has the love of his life and despite both their pasts, they’ll never know another fucking hunger pain. That’s a very vibrant, very luminous future.

 

-/-

 

“Mommyyyy!” Belle and Ellie answer before Killian makes his way back to bed. He dives beside her in all his shirtless wonder, resting his head on her shoulder to make it into the frame. “Daddy there you are! We miss you so much already.” Her little lips are dyed blue and she knows Killian’s having a mini meltdown beneath his soft exterior.

 

“Love Bug, what sort of delicacies’ have you been munching on?” Emma watches his eyes dart back and forth between Belle and Ellie on the smaller square they’re shown in.

 

“Oh, we had BLUE vanilla ice cream. The ice cream was blue but it was vanilla. It was called uhm, it was called Cookie Monster. It had Oreos in it. Like those cookies you love so much that make your teeth spotty like 101 Dalmatians. You know the cookies, Dad.”

 

“Oh my god, that sounds delicious!” On occasion, she may catch herself over-selling her enthusiasm but this is not the case right now. Killian asked her if she wanted anything before they call it a night and she bit her tongue, but blue vanilla cookies and cream sounds almost as perfect as hearing Ellie’s voice right now.

 

She knows it’s only been five hours now and Ellie spends more time at school than this, but the idea of being at least three hours away if her kid needs her makes her pregnant hormones threaten to open the damn floodgates.

 

“What else did you do since we left?” Killian laughs, still enjoying the sight of her.

 

“We painted uhm…” they watch her turn to Belle for the answer like she does the two them when they’re with her. The best reassurance comes from watching Ellie behave with the same comfort level she does at home.

 

“Ceramic plates.”

 

“Yeah! Plates only Belle’s plate was square like a platter and mine was rounder. I painted it for you but the lady has to set them on fire.” She scrunches her little nose and turns back to Belle “Wait, she can’t do that, how am I ‘pose to give my mommy and daddy my plate if she burns it on fire? I only give them ashes? They don’t know what I painted.”

 

“She’s not setting it on fire, she’s ‘firing’ them, which is just a pottery term. It’s like baking a cookie. They put them in something called a kiln.” Belle educates quickly. “Don’t worry, your masterpiece will be ready in about a week to give to your parents, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Ellie exhales with relief. She continues to tell them about the last five hours like it’s been five days. Emma can only really speak for herself here, but knowing Killian, she’s certain they’re both completely content hearing the ramblings of a five-year-old. “…And then Toothless membered that he was not a bad dragon but a good dragon and he loves Hiccup as much as Jakey loves me. I miss Jakey.”

 

“I checked on him before we called you, he’s doing good at Mr. and Mrs. Nolan’s. He loves his new friends.” Emma double-checked to make sure he was getting along with Simba, Scamp and Rajah. David swears they’ve already accepted him into the pack. “Bug, it’s getting late and I hear Belle has so many stories to read you.”

 

“Yeah, she does! I’ll member all of them so I can tell you and my baby sister. Daddy has to kiss the belly extra for me.”

 

“Will do, my queen. We love you more than anything, okay? Sleep well.”

 

“I love you too, night-night!” They thank Belle once more before the call disconnects. She can’t hand away the phone fast enough before turning away from him, completely overcome with emotion.

 

“Oh, Emma,” he sighs, turning off the table lamp before curling his body against her back. She can’t help the tears streaming past the bridge of her nose and onto her pillowcase. “It’s all going to work out, my love.”

 

“What do I do...” Between missing one kid and on a search for another, the one in her stomach starts to mess with her emotions again, and she’s just too overwhelmed to think positively. “…if he’s not okay?”

 

“Emma, if he is not okay, we will do everything we can to make sure he is, no matter what that means.”

 

She has no idea what that means, yet his support probably means more than anything in this world ever could.

 

-/-

 

They’re off to a unique start this morning. She wakes up before him and takes a shower almost immediately. He’s woken by a loud curse coming from the bathroom.

 

“Emma?” The towel is a little too small to cover her belly as it’s wrapped around her slightly.

 

“Sorry, I almost slipped. The tub doesn’t have the non-slip texture that ours does and I got a little clumsy.” He extends his arms to her before she finishes her sentence, guiding her to step out toward him. “I’m okay.” She reminds him when both feet are on the linoleum.

 

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

 

“You woke up three times last night flinching at the wall.” She presses her hand to his chest, her lips to his lips, retreating with a soft smile but concern in her freshly-rested eyes. “I figured another fifteen minutes wouldn’t hurt.”

 

“I don’t necessarily recall flinching, but thank you for the concern.”

 

“Mhm,” She runs her tongue over her teeth as she considers him for a moment. “Killian, I’m going to ask you something straight up okay, and you’re gonna have to just tell me the truth?”

 

“I’ve never once lied to you Emma.”

 

“Have you been here before?” Her voice follows his immediately, and his mind blanks out the minute the question registers as English to his ears.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You went pale when we walked in here last night, and your eyes were blown wide like you spaced out to a level I don’t think I ever have before. You had this look on your eyes like you saw your best friend murdered here or something.” She’s using all these hands motions and talking like some teenager leaving the latest horror movie and he feels more exposed than a trip about Emma should make him feel. “Have you been here? When I said Storybrooke, it was like you’ve been studying an exam cheat sheet on me for the last six months. You knew exactly what I was talking about.”

 

“You think I wouldn’t have told you that I’ve been to this town?”

 

“I don’t know. I thought it was kind of like how you didn’t tell me you knew about Granny’s diner when I first brought it up. If you have, it’s okay. You can tell me. We can talk about it.”

 

That was obviously under different terms. They had slept together for the first time and she was showing her track shoes to him again like she was ready to bolt. He wasn’t going to make her feel like she had to change her whole routine in case she wasn’t interested in dating him any longer.

 

“No, I have never been to this town before.”

 

“Then what’s wrong? Why were you having nightmares every time you fell asleep?”

 

“I wasn’t.” He sounds defensive. He knows he sounds defensive. “Aren’t you starved? The last thing we ate were those tacos.” She drops the notion and they continue to ready themselves for the day without the topic coming back up.

 

Downstairs in the diner he gets another rush of déjà vu, this is one Emma can relate to however. It’s like almost identical to Granny’s, right down to making diners refer to the owner as a family member.

 

“Welcome to my diner, Auntie Em’s.” The older woman smiles from beyond the counter. “Oh, you must be the young couple my niece was fussin’ over last night. You’re certainly two cute little things, aren’t you, and it looks like you’re workin’ on a third cutie.” He beams brightly at the woman. She’s certainly kinder to strangers than Granny. He turns to Emma to find her smiling awkwardly with her hand resting over the belly.

 

“Yes, and she’s a hungry, cute little thing. That’s for certain. Can we take a place at the counter?” Killian gestures to the barstools and for a moment, he thinks the woman plans on jumping across the counter and pulling them out for two of them.

  
“Yes, yes, sit, sit, sit.” He begins to pull Emma’s chair first when she stalls him with her hand over his.

 

“Actually, I uhm…Why don’t you sit, I forgot my phone upstairs.” He catches her underlying weariness and he’s not following as to why. She didn’t exactly debrief him on playing any sort of character this trip. He’s afraid he’ll tell too much or not the correct fabrication. He does as she says anyhow, eyes lingering on her as she goes.

 

“D’you know what your lady likes?”

 

“Usually, but it depends more on what the baby likes these days.” He makes sure his smile resurfaces as ‘Auntie Em’ offers him coffee.

 

-/-

 

It’s ten minutes later and he sent her two texts, ordered them both pancakes and has downed more coffee than any one person should in one seating.

 

“I’ve never seen your face before.” He turns to find a boy years older than Ellie watching him with these round and luminous hazel eyes.

 

“No, I suppose you haven’t.” The boy doesn’t hesitate to sit in the seat he was saving for Emma.

 

“You’re in my mom’s seat.” He whispers, leaning toward Killian like he’s giving him a helping hint. “She hates when people are in her seat.”

 

“Surely she’ll have mercy on me, I don’t know the rules and regulations of your quaint town yet.”

 

“Well, if you plan on staying you gotta know a couple of things.” He looks around before leaning all the closer to Killian. “Auntie Em gets easily sidetracked if you ever ask about her husband, Leroy in the corner is extremely grumpy if he’s not the first person to get coffee, and my mom likes the seat that can view directly into the kitchen when the door swings open, so she knows they’re not spitting in her food. She’s not always the nicest and thinks she has a lot of enemies.”

 

“Well, you are a wealth of knowledge, aren’t you, lad?”

 

“Yeah, I like to give people their best shot.” His smirk is both child-like yet very mature and self-assured. Any interaction with children makes him miss his love bug, but this particular smile makes him miss Emma as if it’s been days not minutes since she went upstairs. It’s so reminiscent of the grin she wears when something she cooks turns out well.

 

“You know, you’ve given me so much information, but you’ve yet to tell me your name.”

 

“Oh, that’s Henry.” His hearing suddenly impaired when the last thing heard was ‘Auntie Em’s’ voice regarding his new little friend with the same name as Emma’s boy.

 

He measures time by the gradually growing look of concern on the child’s face. He must be staring, or gawking even. He realizes debriefing wouldn’t have just been nice but extremely necessary. What happens when a spy comes in direct contact with its target? Well, in his vast research of movies and comics, a witty showdown, usually with guns and ninja stars, but of course none of that has any place here.

 

“Killian Jones, it’s a pleasure to meet you Henry.” And with his own voice, the sound in the room returns, heavily highlighted by the older woman rambling on about her husband, Henry.

 

“Nice to meet you too. Can I call you Killian, since we’re friends now?” Henry reaches in his messenger bag and pulls out a large leather-bound book reading ‘Once Upon a Time.’ “My mom always says I have to ask grown-ups if I can call them by their first name.”

 

“Well, of course, since we’re friends, Killian will do just fine.” Henry smiles kindly once more before pushing Emma’s untouched plate of pancakes back and plopping his book down. He begins furiously flipping through a few pages when Auntie Em places a steaming mug of cocoa in front of Henry. Killian feels his lungs seize as if he’s just inhaled copious amounts of the same spice dusted atop Henry’s hot cocoa.

 

“You okay?” Henry questions as Killian covers his mouth, choking on surprise if nothing else.

 

“Fine. Yes, thank you.” He clears his throat, eyes watering from the strain. “My uh, wife and daughter drink cinnamon on their hot chocolate as well. I thought it was just their thing, but I see you enjoy it too?”

 

“You have a daughter? How old is she? Did she come with you?”

 

“Yes, and another on the way, Ellie is five and no, she stayed with my dear friend this weekend.”

 

“Oh…” He nods his head before turning back to the storybook and continuing to find the page. “You should have brought her, there are almost no kids here.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yeah.” He slides the book over to Killian, shoving his plate away from him now as well. “You look like this guy.”

 

“Is that…” Killian studies the page before him, an illustration of a dark-haired man with a hook for a hand and a large helm before him. “Captain Hook?”

 

“Yes, and he’s on the Jolly Roger.”

 

“Well, you’ll enjoy this bit.” Killian reaches for his wallet, tugging out a business card and handing it to Henry.

 

“Killian Jones, C-E-O of Jolly Roger Inc?” Henry’s voice is riddled with excitement, his eyes just as enthusiastic when they gaze upon Killian once more. “What do you do there?”

 

“Design ships.”

 

“Do you know how to sail a ship?”

 

“I reckon I know quite well, actually.”

 

“Did you sail to Storybrooke? That’s so cool, I always wanted to be on a ship. I want to be a pirate actually and I would love to—”

 

“You’re in my seat and hyping up my son before 9am.” The voice behind him leaves much to be desired. It’s offensive and more than likely the human equivalent of a growl. He turns slowly on his stool.

 

Before him is a dark-haired, unimpressed woman around Robin’s age with a snarl to her lips and eyes so dark brown, they look as black as her soul must be.

 

“You must be Henry’s mother.”

 

“That’s usually what the word ‘son’ implies. And who is the stranger talking to my son?”

 

“He’s not a stranger, Mom. His name is Killian and he’s really nice and his wife and daughter drink hot cocoa just like me, with cinnamon. He looks like Captain Hook and he sounds like him too and—”

 

“Henry, calm down.” Regina advises her son much kindlier than she’s been with Killian.

 

“Henry?” The first familiar voice within fifteen minutes sounds startlingly close. He adverts his eyes from the fuming woman to find Emma so doe-like and awe-stricken.

 

“Darling, this is Henry and his mother whose name escapes me.”

 

“Because I never gave it.” The woman snipes behind him.

 

“This is my mom, Mayor Regina Mills.” Killian wants to consider how a politician can hold office and behave in such ways to strangers, but his concern lies solely in the state of his Swan.

 

“This is my wife, Emma Jones.” The phrase does not elude his heart in the slightest, it tightens, aches and bursts all before he takes a breath.

 

“Uh…” Her lashes flutter rapidly, and he fears she’ll shatter any second, her emotions quite unpredictable these days. “Hi. Sorry, I uhm…pregnant.”

 

“Very articulate.” Regina mumbles under her breath, aggressively setting her large designer briefcase beside Killian’s pancakes. “If you’d excuse me, I have to be the voice of the people in 90 minutes and I have trouble even tolerating people without my coffee and egg white omelet.”

 

Egg whites? He would have guessed the dreams of small children. Go figure.

 

“Right. Well, I’m just about through anyhow, but Emma, you haven’t taken a bite since yesterday.” He turns back to the mayor “Surely, you’ll forgive me if I don’t flee the diner before my wife eats.”

 

“Just flee my seat.” He turns back to Henry to find him juggling his storybook and cocoa as he hops from his stool and secures them a table by the entrance.

 

“Mom, I’m gonna keep talking to my new friend, Killian.” Regina rolls her eyes, but oddly enough doesn’t discourage her child from befriending a stranger. He considers his Ellie again, realizing the difference in small town parenting. Children don’t just make friends with men in a diner where he’s from.

 

The two of them sit, but Emma hesitates a bit, glancing back to Regina and back to Henry before sliding in beside Killian.

 

“Hi Killian’s wife. Are you a pirate, too?”

 

“Uh…” There are about three or four causes for her speechless state, and he really hopes it’s not the pirate question. “No.”

 

“I didn’t think so, you’re not in this book.” And he’s suddenly thrusting the book toward Emma, flipping to the dog-eared page with Captain Hook. “Doesn’t he look just like him?” Emma blinks four or five times, still unable to answer as her eyes pan from Henry, to Killian and back to the page.

 

“Emma, are you feeling alright?” It’s almost becoming a task to keep from calling her ‘Swan.’ He can’t remember saying her name this many times since they’ve been together.

 

“No.” She shakes her head. “The baby doesn’t like the air in Maine, I guess.” She rubs the belly with two hands as she stares closely at the page. “Yeah…that’s Killian on the Jolly Roger.”

 

“Yeah, and how weird is it that he sells ships, knows how to sail a ship and owns a ‘Jolly Roger.’” Henry lets out this full-bodied laugh like he’s as old as the name he owns.  “I couldn’t write this if I tried.”

 

Emma makes this noise, somewhat a snort, some what a gasp. The most peculiar part is how delayed it is, as her wide eyes scan over Henry’s smile.

 

He sees Liam and Elsa in Ellie every day. She’s five but sometimes she gets crinkles around her eyes like she’s her father’s age. Sometimes her eyes so large and icy blue like he’s looking at her mother. There are traits he could pull out and sort between two columns and the more he looks the more he sees the things in Henry belonging to Emma, like how his teeth cling together but his bottom lip droops as he’s concentrating, or the way his chin dimples when he smiles and his cheeks will certainly grow into the strong structure Emma possesses when he gets older.

 

There’s just so much more that isn’t Emma’s and it’s troubling to think about the sandy brown hair or the way his nose tilts down. And then there are his eyes, and it’s probably his own experience with everyone he’s related to. He’s lucky enough to have Ellie come from his brother and sister-in-law, and by some cosmic design, the product of their genes rendered her with the same shade of blonde Emma possesses. He’s lucky enough to see pictures of his parents and Elsa’s to understand why every little curve and line in Ellie’s features are the way they are.

 

“What did I tell you? Breakfast before books.” The mayor joins them a bit uninvited, setting a plate of pancakes with chocolate chips only in one of two in front of Henry, the same way he requests Ellie’s when they do eat breakfast at Granny’s. She takes a seat beside her son with a smile as fake as the ballet mothers. It’s satisfying to grin right back and watch hers falter in the slightest bit of disgust.

 

But then her eyes fall on Emma, and they don’t just linger, they study.

 

“Sorry, I’m a much better person once I get my coffee.” Regina comments after examining Emma in detail. “Anyhow, you said your names were Killian and Emma Jones? Are you interested in moving to our seaside town, or are you just passing through?”

 

“Weekend getaway. Just the two of us before the baby comes.” Killian answers, Emma barely breathing since she made her way in here five minutes ago.

 

“They have a daughter too, her name is Ellie and she’s five. I told Killian she should have come. There’s like no kids here and all the adults have a coffee addiction.” Henry nudges his mother and Regina scowls in reply for the better half of a minute. A playful smirk sneaks up on him, and he sees it’s used just for Henry.

 

It’s a check in two boxes in his mind. He’s eating, food is actually a priority for his mother, and she tends to only munch on the happiness of strangers. Her son gets a softer side.

  
“So, Mrs. Jones, what are you having?”

 

“Another girl.” Henry answers quickly, and maybe they are friends because he’s gotten quite a bit of information out of Killian in under 20 minutes. “What are you going to name her?”

 

“We don’t know yet.” Emma speaks, keeping her chin down and her eyes toward the book in front of her. “We have sort of been dragging our feet on everything.”

 

“Oh, you certainly have. You must be what, five weeks away?”

 

“She’s six months along.” Killian corrects. “And we’re in the process of quite the life change. We moved into a new home from a high-rise condo. We just adopted a dog, did some renovations to the house and are finalizing the adoption of our daughter.”

 

“Adoption?” Regina is suddenly drained of all her condescending glory as her eyes widen in shock.

 

“Aye, adoption.”

 

“I’m adopted too!” Henry beams. Another question answered. “Mom, tell the story. Tell my adoption story. No wait, Killian, you should go first. You’re the guest.”

 

“Henry.” Regina quietly scolds him. “We don’t assume people want to hear about our story anymore than they want to tell their own.” Turning back to them, she looks to Emma once again. “I’m sorry, he’s from a small town and thinks everyone is family. Where are you two from again?”

 

“Boston.” Emma speaks once more, almost painfully and he gets the feeling they should just get out of here now. She doesn’t look well and he doesn’t blame her. He just has this nagging urge to be her savior and that’s the last thing she wants. If they leave it will be her choice. “And uh, Ellie is biologically Killian’s niece. Her parents were in a fatal collision about a year and a half ago.”

 

“Oh…” Regina actually spares him this apologetic glance before wrapping her arm around Henry’s shoulder. “Well…I’m afraid Henry’s adoption story isn’t all that noteworthy.”

 

“It is!” Henry argues. “My mom’s stomach doesn’t work right so she can’t have babies and she works so much and never had a boyfriend or husband so the people who let you adopt kids were saying no to her.”

 

“Henry, my goodness, will you stop?”

 

“I’m almost finished.” He reminds her before turning back to Emma. Killian watches her chest stall in the midst of a breath. “After a year of waiting, they said yes to her. Basically, if you really want something like a baby, you sometimes have to take a couple of ‘no’s’ but eventually you can get a ‘yes’ if you keep trying.”

 

“Right. Perseverance is key. Sounds like a grand ol’ lesson to me.” Killian winks at Henry.

 

“Yeah, that’s why sometimes when my mom says no to things like getting an Xbox or a dog, I just keep asking.” Regina begins to speak when Auntie Em arrives to the table with a fresh round of breakfast for Emma and a cup of hot cocoa.

 

“How cool that we both like cinnamon on our hot cocoa, huh?” Henry comments just as Emma’s lifting the mug to her lips. She jerks her arm in response, managing to have the whip cream rock around and splash the cocoa over the rim.

 

“How’d you…” She turns to Killian for a second and he hopes he can simultaneously convey how dedicated he is to being here for her, while also pretending there’s nothing at all array about this situation as far as Regina and Henry are concerned. “That is cool. Our kid likes it that way too.”

 

“Killian told me. Sounds like we all have so much in common. We should hang out more. Are you moving here?”

 

“No, no we’re just visiting for the weekend.” Emma reminds him softly, setting the mug down without so much as a taste.

 

“No one ever ‘just visits’ unless their car breaks down or they get lost. Why’d you pick Storybrooke? Portland is nicer.”

 

“Henry?” Regina furrows her brows at his honesty. Portland is beautiful this time of year and Killian can understand Henry’s confusion. “You realize I am the mayor? You’re supposed to talk up this town not sell people on other places. And you’ve never been to Portland.”

 

“I’ve never been further than the town line.” Henry frowns in reply before setting his sights back on Killian. “Maybe you could sail here and bring Ellie?”

 

“That’s an idea. She’s only five though, I’m sure you’re not interested in hanging out with someone that little.”

 

“She’s a mature five-year-old.” Emma defends. “I’m sure you’d like hanging out with her just fine. She colors inside the lines and can educate you all on the ideals of the modern feminist. She’s a very mature five-year-old.”

 

“Sounds like it. Does she like pirates?” Henry asks eagerly.

 

“Does she ever.” Emma replies with a new lightness. Maybe Ellie would have made a better companion this trip. “She’s obsessed with Jake and the Neverland pirates. She named our dog Jake after him. She loves everything Peter Pan and Captain Hook and she loves drawing ships.”

 

“That’s so cool. Has she been sailing before with you?” he directs to Killian.

 

“Yes. Not so much a first mate as a Captain who lets her first mate take the helm.”

 

“It’s cool that she’s not into really girly stuff. Every girl I know wants to be a princess.”

 

“No, she’s not a princess. She’s a queen.” Emma smiles softly.

 

“But we don’t necessarily follow gender roles in our household.”

 

“What does that mean?” Regina scoffs.

 

“It means Queen Eloise can have a ship named after her but also be the one to engineer it if she so wishes.” He’s not foolish enough to think Regina impressed, but she nods some sort of unsolicited approval.

 

“Interesting. I’m an admirer of girls with ambition. Speaking of which, I need to go lead a town hall and as my advisor, I’ll have to be taking Henry along. It was nice meeting you both. I hope you find Storybrooke to your liking for the duration of your trip.” She slides out of the booth without waiting for them to respond and makes her way over to Auntie Em at the counter.

 

“Sorry. I wish I could spend all day showing you around, but my mom needs me around to keep her from turning into the Evil Queen.” Henry slides from the booth as well but leaves his storybook sitting on the table.

 

“Henry, you forgot your book.” Emma replies so eagerly it’s as if she’s just trying to prolong his departure. Killian places his hand on her thigh to remind her he’s still here and it’s okay, everything’s okay.

 

“You can have it.” Henry replies, brushing the crumbs from his striped scarf. “Give it to Ellie.”

 

“Are you sure, you seem to really like this book?” Killian would hate to take something so precious from the boy.

 

“Positive. I could rewrite it from memory with my eyes closed.” He seems awfully proud of himself when he smiles, looking back up at Emma and Killian fondly. “It was nice meeting you both. You’re cool people.” He backs away just in time to bump into his mother and the two head out with a final wave from the lad.

 

As soon as the bell above the door finishes chiming Emma shoves her plate away and tosses her head over her arms on the table. As quickly as he can hold her, she’s shrug him off with a muffled ‘Don’t.’

 

“Swan?” he whispers lowly. She turns her head slowly, revealing her reddened face.

 

“If you hug me, I will cry. Just let me be strong.”

 

“You are strong. You’re strong if you cry and you’re strong if you don’t.”

 

“Nine years, Killian. I have nine years worth…” She swallows hard and buried her face again.

 

“Go up to the room. I’ll grab something to go.”

 

-/-

 

She’s been waiting 20 minutes for him. It feels like hours have gone by since she came into their room and plopped down before the bed. It’s an old habit, sitting beside the bed instead of on top of it when she finds herself too chaotic and in desperate need of feeling grounded. She scrapes her fingernails in the carpet, curls her toes against the small dresser the TV is resting on.

 

“Darling, why don’t you lay down?” she doesn’t look at him when he strolls through the door, doesn’t ask why it took so long to put cold pancakes in a styrofoam carton or why he had no urgency to get to her. It doesn’t matter.

 

“Tell me something to make me forget about this.” Every time she gets hurt or sad, every time she thinks her life is twice as bad as his, she begs him to rip open old wounds and make her shit seem small. It’s selfish and he will always be better to her than she can ever be to him. She knows it, and she hopes he stays regardless because there’s no one in this world who would sit next to her through what he just did.

 

“A _sad_ something?” She nods in reply. “Okay…let’s see.”

 

She hears a bag and keys fall against the dresser, hears him toe off his shoes before he plops down beside her, intertwining their fingers and kissing each knuckle.

 

“You already know I was about eleven when we came to the US.”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Well…” He exhales longer than he ever has, and she suddenly regrets it. Every story he tells her is a little sad, but she can hear a hurricane in his lungs right now, and it troubles her. “I was always a bit of a thief growing up. Liam worked so much back home and even moving here and I spent a lot of time alone. I wouldn’t steal anything but food. I was starving.”

 

His grasp on her hand tightens a bit and she squeezes right back.

 

“When I came in here last night, it maybe launched me back to those days because the last day I ever stole food was from Granny’s.”

 

“When you said you knew her before?”

“Before Elsa and Anna, about half a year after we got to the states, my brother was working one job and uh…and I got caught stealing food off Granny’s patio tables, after the customers would pay their check, before the bussers came to clean up the scraps.”

Her stomach plummets and she wants to tell him to stop. This is too tough a memory, this is more than the sad smile he gives after recalling one of the moments he felt a little lonely.

“Granny caught me herself and made me tell her where I lived. When I showed her this awful hellhole with someone else’s blood stained on the bathroom floor and no actual kitchen, she asked if my mother was an addict, too.’”

“Too?”

“Ruby’s mother.” He shakes his head with this heavy breath that makes her teeth ache. “She waited for Liam to come home and they had words outside. A few days later I remember carrying grocery bags with my clothes in it to Granny’s diner. She handed him a uniform and the keys to the studio apartment above the diner. It actually looked just like this.”

There’s this sickeningly limp smile with the corners of his mouth pulled back tightly, but his bottom lip dropping with a quiver as his eyes and fingers wander to the wrought iron above their heads.

“I can’t…” he hesitates, delicate traces with only his fingertips quickly becoming a forceful grip around the metal footboard. “I think, perhaps, you feel like you could have done it some days. I can almost feel your ‘what-ifs’ in my own gut, but my gut has felt much worse than ‘what-if’s,’ love.  Maybe one day you’d get to a point where money was no longer tight and you could stand to sign a lease with the confidence you’ll fulfill it without struggle. The journey getting there, however, is actually so bloody agonizing I can’t look you in the eyes and tell you I never wished I was someone else’s responsibility—someone who could afford to have me in their care.”

 

Killian idolizes his brother. He paints him to be this amazing, unrelenting, passionately providing father-figure. He makes him sound like statues were modeled after him in Grecian times and the president should put him on the ten-dollar bill. To say he even occasionally wishes he would have been raised by someone else is just too bizarre to process.

 

“There are worse things you could do than give a child his best chance in the form of giving him to someone else.”

 

“I didn’t know he had a family when I did it. I didn’t know he’d ever be raised by someone who wouldn’t hurt him or mistreat him. I…”

 

“You did your best and it worked out for you, more importantly, it worked out for him. I mean, his mother is something else but she’s quite kind to him, he eats well, he’s clothed and he’s secure enough with himself to start conversations in diners with strangers. I was frightened of my damn shadow for the first 15 years of my life. Some days I still find myself uncomfortable in the dark.”

 

“He is pretty confident huh?”

 

“Insanely. You should have seen him. He took a seat right next to me and shoved his book down on my pancakes like we were old chaps.” It’s remarkable he can manage to chuckle right now after spilling one of his darkest stories. He’s so resilient, it’s inspiring.

 

“Completely unrelated, but did Regina actually say I look like I’m due in five weeks? You’d tell me if I’m that big right?”

 

“How the hell is she mayor?”

 

“Right?” The gentle laughter dies down pretty quickly and he notices, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, letting her head fall to meet his.

 

“How are you?”

 

“Indifferent.” She lets out a sigh she knew was coming for weeks when they first planned this trip. “On some level, I figured I wouldn’t be satisfied either way. If he was unhappy, I’d be devastated, and if he was happy…”

 

“You’d be jealous?”

 

“Yeah. I’m…I’m jealous. I want to know him. I want Ellie to meet him and I think they’d love each other like you love your sister. I think…I’m sad. I’m glad I didn’t bring her. I’m glad she doesn’t know him, because she’d never let him go. But now I have to. It’s not easy.”

 

“No, I suppose it’s not.” He nuzzles his cheek against the top of her head, squeezing her a little closer. “He’s very bright and I believe Eloise would love him very much. I know she’ll love this storybook.”

 

The storybook seems to mean so much to him and he didn’t think twice about giving it away to a little girl he’s never met. Ellie’s the type of kid who would cry tears of joy, too overwhelmed to speak by a gesture that sincere.

 

“I think I want to tell her about him. I want to be honest with her about everything I am. I don’t know if she’s too young, and I was hoping you’d help me make it appropriate for her age, but I don’t want to keep secrets from my kids.”

 

“Right. I think that’s a great idea. I just hope she can accept that he’s out there and we can’t be with him.” He turns to press his lips to her hair before sighing a soft “I hope we all can.”

 

-/-

 

It’s before noon on Sunday when they load up the truck with their bags after spending the last 24 hours hauled up in their room at the inn, ordering take out and watching her favorite rom-com’s on Killian’s laptop. Waking up wasn’t nearly as worrisome this morning. She finds herself less anxious and more excited to move on from the fear that’s plagued her all this time.

 

She’s just about ready to consider this trip a simple little success when a dark cloud comes storming down the sidewalk.

 

“Mrs. Jones.” Regina appears with this fatal-attraction walk and a devious smile that brings every nervous notion back to her in an instant. “Or…Miss Swan, seeing how you two aren’t actually married.” Killian’s hand wraps around her forearm before the last syllable is spoken.

 

“Uh, why are you looking up on us?” She tries not to sound concerned, but she’s failing, she can tell by the growing grin on Regina’s face.

 

“Not ‘us.’ I care not about the foreigner beside you. Just you.” She’s now close enough to reach out and punch. Not that she’d ever, no she’d never. She’s pregnant and years away from the feisty teen she once was. “You see, I could not put a finger on it yesterday, but I could grip both hands around it now.” Her leather-clad fingers make this choking motion and Killian tugs her back a step toward him.

 

“Do you want to continue to speak in idle threats against the woman carrying my child, or is there something you’d like to say of worth, Madam Mayor?” She can see the rise and fall of his chest through her peripheral.

 

“Well, not that’s she’s worth much, but the woman carrying your child happens to have carried mine.” Regina watches Killian like he’s supposed to flinch.

 

“Yes, I’m aware. The more important question is why are you? She was a minor in a closed adoption. You shouldn’t have any information on her.”

 

“Ah, but I do.” Everything about this interaction is mortifyingly exaggerated. She’s dramatic, as is Killian and Emma’s just trying to keep her heart rate low enough to not alert the baby.

 

She never wanted this. She wanted to watch the kid from afar like she’s staking out a perp, not sit across from him and his mother in a crowded diner. She didn’t want to look this woman in the fucking eyes and feel small again, like the little lost girl giving away her baby and her only chance at being loved. She didn’t want to feel worthless.

 

“Okay, well we’re leaving now, so what’s your M.O. here?” Emma asks, ready to get this conversation over faster than it’s started.

 

“My point is, you are not his mother and you have no right to show up in his life, ever.”

 

“At no point did I claim to be his mother. I am not showing up ‘in his life’ I’m just…”

 

“Just what?”

 

“Just checking up on him.”

 

“That’s not your right. See, you have absolutely no rights here Miss Swan. You’re the seventeen-year-old screw up who let her thug boyfriend impregnate her. You’re not—”

 

“That’s enough!” Killian shouts and Regina only looks more amused. She turns on him, pressing him back toward the truck.

 

“Killian, it’s fine.”

 

“The hell it is.” He’s seething, unable to disconnect the vicious glare he’s watching Regina with. “You’re so afraid I’ll play the hero, if you want to be the bloody hero, you better stand up for yourself and be it.” He turns to her with warning. “I’m not going to watch someone lash out on you like this.” Somehow this has him more in arms than the story he told her yesterday.

 

“Okay. Just, just calm down.” He runs his tongue over his teeth and glances away from her. It takes a breath, but she turns back toward Regina and remembers how hard she tried to get away from that girl. “I understand your very rational fear that some woman is always waiting to come in and steal your son from you. That woman could be me, but I don’t see a reason to. I came here looking for a reason he would need me.”

 

“Even if he was starving, alone and scared, he wouldn’t need the woman who abandoned him.”

 

“I don’t know what you read from my file or how you even got your hands on it, but what I did wasn’t ‘abandonment’ it was sacrifice.” Maybe her voice is shaking, but she feels stronger every second she stands here defending herself. “I couldn’t take care of him. No matter how badly I wanted to keep him, I wanted him to live a better life than I did. I wanted him to not worry about his next meal or freeze to death sleeping in cars in the middle of winter. I wanted him to have a life I couldn’t give him, so I gave him to you.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes and for a moment she imagines Ellie doing it. It’s her new favorite habit these days. That’s what reminds her how far she is from the day she gave Henry away.

 

“You know, I never met my daughter’s parents but I see them in her every day and I’ve come to love them wholeheartedly because they created the most perfect, most amazing little girl who now calls me ‘Mommy.’ I’m not saying you owe me, but you don’t get to stand here and tell me I’m worthless when my worst moment in life gave you the same gift they gave me.”

 

“What do you want, a trophy? A medal? What will make you never come looking for my son again?”

 

“Your word that she’ll never have to.” Killian intervenes.  “If, ‘God forbid,’ something happens to you what happens to him? I can’t imagine you have many friends.”

 

“That’s none of your concern.”

 

“Well, the lad and I are what he refers to as ‘friends’ now, so I am very much concerned. I know from experience people don’t live as long as they plan to, and if you should meet an early demise as my brother did, do you have someone to step in for him? How can we know he’ll never need us?”

 

“I’m sorry, are you the thug boyfriend? He’s not your son.”

 

“Answer the question, Regina.” Emma steps in because it’s too important a point to allow her to deflect from. “Does he have any other family here? Will he go into the system? I’m not asking to be in his life, but if…if you don’t have a backup plan, if you don’t have someone in line to take care of him, then I will step in. We, we will step in.”

 

“So that’s how you’ll weasel into his life? Kill me off?”

 

“No, God is that what you think? Are you listening? I know he’s your son. I just will never not worry about him, so if you want to keep me as far from his as you can, you better have a back up plan.”

 

“Let me worry about that. You can go now.” She wants to argue, but she’s said all she needs to. Regina can be bitter but Emma is not going to just forget he was ever born. Her son will always be out there, and she’ll always be worrying.

 

She moves to the opposite side of the truck and hoists herself into the passenger seat. Killian keeps eying Regina for another moment. At this point she’s just ready to go home, see her daughter, prepare for this baby and take a minute to feel relieved that Henry is happy and healthy, despite how much of a bitch Regina can be.

 

When he gets into the truck, he doesn’t say a word. He’s still fuming over the attack. She figures it’s better to let him work it out in silence, especially since the attack was on her.

 

-/-

 

“I’m sorry.” It’s been an hour and they’re about to stop in Portland to fill up the tank. She’s let the radio hum lightly with static to keep from listening to nothing but his heavy sighs and her heavier thoughts.

 

“Don’t be. You care about me, and I get it. I would flip out if anyone talked to you like that, too.”

 

“I’m not sorry for that. I’m sorry Regina’s a hell beast from the depths of Satan’s arsehole.”

 

“Killian!”

 

“She’s awful. I’ve never hated anyone before. My God.”

 

“She’s defensive. She more than likely looked you up, too, and thinks we’re here to battle for him. I mean, yeah, she’s terrible, but as long as she treats that kid well, I really don’t care what she says to me.”

 

“Well I bloody-well care. You’re my world, Emma. I refuse to hear a bad word about my world.” He puts the truck in park in front of the pump. His eyes remain focused straight ahead as he cuts the engine. He looks almost ashamed of himself but there’s no reason for it.  “Do you want me to get you anything from inside?”

 

“You know that you’re everything to me, don’t you?” He drops his head with a gently nod in reply. “I mean my _everything_ , my boyfriend, my best friend, my partner in crime, the father of my kids…my hero. I love you more than you could understand. Hell, more than I understand most days, but it’s there and it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, falling in love with you.”

 

He scrunches his nose and uses the car key to scratch behind his ear before meeting her eyes. “Emma, I’m so—”

 

“And I am so sorry that you haven’t been able to celebrate this pregnancy like you should have. It must be so hard for you to constantly bend and fold to fit my mold. You don’t have to do it anymore, baby. I can be happy and take care of this kid without feeling guilty about Henry. Henry’s okay. It doesn’t feel wrong to be pregnant anymore.” He unbuckles and angles himself toward her, reaching out to cup her cheek him his hand.

 

“Emma, you didn’t keep me from celebrating the baby. I still celebrate her, Ellie celebrates her, the whole damn office, the crew at Granny’s and our closest friends celebrate her. We’re not ignoring this child. Don’t apologize. You’ve been doing your best, love.”

 

“Is my best really good enough?”

 

“Do you want to have this child with me?”

 

“Of course I do.”

 

“Then it’s beyond good enough. It’s amazing.” He extends himself further to press his lips to hers in one of the gentlest kisses she’s ever received from him. It’s like a whisper, a sweet, soft reminder just for her. “For the record, falling in love with you was one of the best things to have ever happened to my life as well.”

 

-/-

 

“That is you, isn’t it?” Ellie points to the picture again of Captain Hook from Henry’s storybook. He read the tale three times now to make up for the two nights he was away.  She’s cuddled up against him enjoying every second. The best part is the very story he tells her from time to time seems to match perfectly with the one in this book. The Crocodile is a man and a monster, and Captain Hook is not so much a villain as an anti-hero he finds himself really rooting for.

 

(If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he read this book before.)

 

“I can see the handsome resemblance, Love Bug, but alas, I have two hands.”

 

“Yeah, but maybe in a before life.” Ellie is a firm believer of being born again. She doesn’t understand how someone can only live once when the world keeps going and going and people are too nice to let go of forever. She says she’ll meet Liam and Elsa again one day and maybe she will have dark hair like he does, or green eyes like Emma.  

 

“Maybe.” Killian replies just as Emma makes her way into Ellie’s room with a fresh-out-of-the-dryer Sven.

 

“Here you go, Bug. Clean and warm.” She hands it to Ellie as she climbs in beside her. Ellie makes a show of snuggling him close to her. He meets her eyes with a question and she nods gently in reply.

 

“Eloise, let’s talk a minute about this storybook okay?”

 

“Kay.” She’s quite perceptive, her smile slowly fading away at the sound of his voice. “It’s a serious story.”

 

“It is.” He’s not sure where to begin. He thought it over at least twelve times on the drive home. Emma asked him to make it age-appropriate, but the truth never really is. “Love Bug, do you know what a ‘teenager’ is?”

 

“Bigger than me but little-er than you?”

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Emma slides her fingers through Ellie’s hair, catching her attention. “When I was a teenager, let’s say 16? I let a boy tell me I was special.”

 

“You are special.” Ellie compliments. Emma scrunches her nose in reply before continuing.

 

“Right, and you’re special too. You’re perfect. But you know that already, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah. I know ‘cause you and my dad always tell me.”

 

“That was the first time I ever heard it and sometimes when no one ever makes you feel special, you’re afraid to lose the one person who does.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“So I did some things to keep him around before finding out he wasn’t a good guy and I shouldn’t have kept him around.”

 

“What things?”

 

“Well…really bad things. Some things not so bad, but very dumb. One of the things made me pregnant.”

 

“Pregnant? Like you are now? With a baby in your belly?”

 

“Yeah, like now only…only now I’m the mommy of this baby. I wasn’t the mommy of that baby. I had to give him to someone else so they could be his mom.”

 

“What?” Ellie sits up in bed and turns to Killian with the most adorably confused little face. “Why not? Are you gonna give my baby sister to someone else?”

 

“No!” Emma rushes to correct. “I was a teenager. I was homeless. I was sleeping in my car and I couldn’t afford to even feed myself, Ellie. The baby would have been hungry and cold. No grilled cheese sandwiches, no sweaters and no stuffed animals like Sven. You have a very warm bed and tons of food to eat and toys. Killian and I can take care of your sister. I didn’t have Killian then. I didn’t have anything.” Poor Emma is rambling and getting upset. This talk is heading south very quickly.

 

“Mommy don’t cry, I’m not mad with you.” Ellie reminds Emma with such a serious tone.

 

“I’m sorry.” Emma replies, taking her time to breathe.

 

“What she’s trying to say is that it was the best thing for the baby to have a different mother. She gave him to someone else to be his mother.”

 

“How do we know he has sandwiches and sweaters now?”

 

“Well…we went to check on him this weekend. That’s why we left town. He’s doing really well actually. And he eats much more than sandwiches. He gets his pancakes just like you, half regular, half chocolate chip. You know what else?”

 

“What else?”

 

“He drinks hot cocoa with whipped cream and…”he pauses for dramatic effect, knowing exciting her now will only end in an extended bedtime, but it’s worth it. “Cinnamon.”

 

“No way!” She smacks his chest in her disbelief. “That’s ‘cause he’s my brother? My baby sister is gonna love her hot cocoa like that too. I know it.”

 

“Ellie…”  


“What’s his name?”

 

“Ellie, hold on, Bug. He’s no—”

 

“Did he give you this book to give to me? He did huh? That’s so nice. What a nice big brother. Is he gonna come live with us now? Is that why we got so many rooms?”

 

“Eloise, listen!” Emma snaps. Ellie is slow to turn and face her. “His name is Henry and he has a mother. It’s not me. It’s Regina. She’s his mom and he’s going to live with her.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because she loves him so much and she’s been taking care of him since he was born. Because he’s her son, not mine.”

 

“But you can have two mommies. I have two mommies, Ruby says you could have two mommies or two daddies, it’s okay. It’s okay. You are my mom and Elsa is my mom. She’s the mommy that went away but if she was still here you’d still be my mom. I can have two moms and Henry can. He wants to be my brother. He gave me his book.”

 

They have that in common, the rambling when they’re starting to get upset.

 

“Honey, he doesn’t know you…he doesn’t know that I’m his…that I’m the woman that had him in her belly.”

 

“Why? Why don’t we tell him then?”

 

“We’re not allowed, Eloise.” He hates how sad she sounds. He hates that she never even met him and is already having a hard time letting Henry go. He hates that any of them have to. “It was a ‘closed’ adoption. Emma doesn’t get to be his mother. She gave up that so he could be happy.”

 

“But he gave me his book.” Ellie forfeits with one final whining sigh. She has on her grumpiest face as she slides the book beneath her pillow and turns away from Emma, cuddling Sven close to her chin.

 

“Buggy, I love you so much and I missed you the whole time I was gone.” Emma attempts to kiss her cheek, and it’s a small victory in it’s own that Ellie doesn’t flinch or pull away.

 

“Me too.” She replies in this soft, scratchy tone like sleep has come and collected all the fight from her. Softer still is her “but we will miss Henry forever.”

 

Maybe he gives her false hope too often, maybe false hope is worse than this bitter reality she’s experiencing now but…

 

“One day you will meet him, when he’s older and it doesn’t matter where he lives or who he stays with. One day you’ll get to be his sister. I promise you that.”

 

…but she’s five now and the reality is crushing her in ways she’d better manage when she’s older. Maybe false hope is better because it grows dimmer over time.

 

“Okay. One day I won’t miss him ‘cause he’ll be with me?”

 

“One day.”

 

“Okay, one day, Henry, one day.”

 

-/-

 

It’s a month after their trip to Maine and the waters have calmed just in time for Hurricane Anna to arrive. He goes into the office for a half-day, just to ensure he has enough work done to warrant his few days off to welcome his sister.

 

“Hey, Killian!” Alice stops him at the elevator. “You have a guest waiting for you upstairs?”

 

Immediately, he’s sure it’s Anna. She has never been one to sleep on the eve of a big day. It wasn’t even her own high school graduation and he was woken at the crack of dawn by his overly-enthused sibling. She probably took a flight twelve hours earlier knowing her.

 

He actually jogs to the elevator, smiling to himself the entire ride up. It would be embarrassing if anyone else were here to see how excited he is to see her. It’s surprising to see his reflection in the mirrored metal door and realize how excited he is to see her despite the fallout since she’s been gone. He struts out onto his floor, making it halfway toward his office when he’s stopped by Robin.

 

“There may be something we should discuss…” Robin speaks lowly with his best version of intimidation. He’s tugging Killian closer to him, with a wild warning in the man’s eyes.

 

“What’s that? Can’t it wait?”

 

“Well, unless you’re expecting the person in your office?” His tone is sharper than it should be with his _business partner_.

 

“You know I am?” He shakes Robin’s hand from his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, mate, but be sure to shake it out before you come over tonight.”

 

He passes Ruby on the way, her eyes not nearly as bright as he’d expect them to be. Anna was her best friend after all. He pushes it aside anyhow. He makes his way to his office door, finding it unlocked and cracked open.

 

It’s not the strawberry blonde he grew up with sitting at his desk. It’s not anyone even tall enough to catch a glimpse of their hair from behind. The short legs dangle over the side of the chair before he sees the soft, full cheeks peak from behind the back of the chair.

 

“Hi Killian!”

 

It’s been a month since he set sights on these round, luminous hazel eyes and the lightly freckled nose that points down toward the chin he knows now as the Emma Swan chin.

 

“Henry?”

 

 

 

 


	17. Siblings Connected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a few people asking if there was going to be magic in this and there is not. It’s just a modern au with no magic and (what I hope are) respectful nods to canon. Thanks for reading all the comments, kudos and bookmarks. 
> 
> Special Thanks to RavenclawPianist, my beta.

Siblings Connected

“Henry?” The lad smiles in return before reaching his toes down and moving from the chair. He moves toward Killian and for whatever reason, Killian finds the urge to move toward him right back. They meet in the middle of his office, Killian crouching to Henry’s level and enveloping him in a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“My mom told me who you and Emma really were.” He doesn’t sound upset, doesn’t sound angry, doesn’t sound much of anything but curious. “She says you’re not my dad.”

“That’s true.” Killian confirms when they break apart. He stays on that level though, ready to talk about this like adults. He’s never found the rhyme or reason in lying to children. “What are you doing here? How did you get here? Does she know?”

“She’s in the parking lot.” Henry shrugs, moving back to Killian’s desk slowly. Apparently they won’t be speaking maturely as he watches Henry’s attention shuffle around. By the time Killian’s back on his feet, Henry’s already got the picture of Ellie in one hand and the model of the fictional Jolly Roger in another. “You have a cool office.”

“Why is she in the parking lot?”

“Something about not being able to stomach your face this early in the morning.” He turns to hand Killian the frame. “Is that my sister, Ellie?”

“Henry…” How fitting that they handle this situation the same way. 

“Does she like the storybook?”

“Your mother needs to understand this is not small town and she can’t just send you inside of a strange building like she knows the social security number of every Tom, Dick and Harry inside.”

“I bet you don’t have a single Tom, Dick or Harry working here.” Henry smirks something so much like his Swan, it makes Killian grin in return. 

“No. I don’t, but it’s not to say it’s safe here. They’re all strangers to you.”

“You wouldn’t let anyone hurt me. You’re my friend.”

“I am your friend, which is why I need to know why you came.” 

“To meet my mom for real this time, and my sister, Ellie.” He shoves the frame back at Killian and a recording of his own voice telling the boy that ‘perseverance is key’ filters through the many other thoughts racing through his mind. 

“When I last spoke to your mother, Regina made it very clear we weren’t to look for you again. You swear to me right now that she’s in the parking lot.”  
“I swear, pirate’s oath!” Henry salutes before taking a walk around Killian’s desk with the largest grin he’s worn to date. “She told me about Emma the Sunday you left. I begged her day after day, at every meal to let me meet her again, to meet Ellie. She said no, and then no again. So many no’s and finally I stopped asking. I actually stopped talking to her at all. She doesn’t have many friends so it gets really lonely when I don’t talk to her. Finally, she cracked after like a week and drove me up here.”

“And how’d you know where to find me?”

“You gave me your business card, remember?” He takes a seat in the boss’s chair and flicks one of Killian’s cards from the holder on his desk. “When can I go to your house?”

Suddenly Anna coming today doesn’t seem nearly as important. He’s just afraid, really afraid actually, of the fallout when Regina rips Henry away. If they don’t meet but always wonder about each other, will it be better than them meeting and not being able to be in one another’s life? He’s a grown man and gets aches in his chest from missing Anna. He’s sure it will break their tiny hearts to be separated. 

“I need to talk to Emma… and Regina, because pirates don’t salute when they make oaths. This is not the boy scouts.” 

“She’s in the car. Walk with me downstairs and I’ll show you.” Henry challenges. 

Killian Jones does not stand down from a challenge no matter how much he detests the woman it involves. He would hate even more if they are suddenly charged with kidnapping because the lad wanted to run away to Boston without his mother’s consent. 

He leads Henry to the office door, opening it up to see Ruby, Robin and Smee piled against the wall beside the door. 

“Did you not hear the footsteps or do you have absolutely no tact left?” He scolds as the three of them try to right themselves. Privacy in this building is like rain in a drought. They all stand around watching Henry like some exhibit at a museum. “Move!”

“Just like Captain Hook.” Henry snickers beside him. He makes a quick decision whether or not to introduce Henry to Smee.

“Henry, this nosy bunch of idiots are Robin, Ruby and Smee.”

“No way.” Henry moves around Killian’s side to shake each one’s hand. “It’s so cool that your Smee and Killian is Captain Hook. This place is a fairytale come to life.”

“Remind us to take you to Neverland Cupcakes while you’re in town.” Ruby winks. 

“How did you know he was from out of town?” Killian starts to understand the looks of worry now.

“Well…” Ruby’s got no answer.

“Uh…” Smee’s got even less.

“He doesn’t have an accent.” And Robin’s answer is horse shit. 

“Right…out with it.”

“I may have told the lady downstairs that you were my dad and you didn’t know it because my mom never told you she went through with the pregnancy.” He’s an adorable boy, especially when he’s wreaking havoc on Killian’s work environment. So cute, in fact, Killian could just pinch those plump little cheeks of his. 

No wonder Robin was so stern earlier.

“This is Emma’s biological son, Henry.” Killian expresses softly. “And if any of you use this information in even a fraction of the disgusting manner in which you regarded Henry’s lie with, consider our ties severed. It’s none of your business and you are expected to keep it from becoming anyone else’s. Saavy?”

“Aye.” Smee replies, smiling at Henry before returning to his desk. Ruby nods and takes her leave as well but Robin lingers. 

“And you,” Killian begins loudly enough to block out the sound of a pair of devilish heels clacking against the floor. “Should I have conceived a child an upwards of 10 years ago, it’s not your bloody responsibility to scold me for it now.”

“I wasn—”

“Ah, so you actually do own a company. I thought that was another lie you and your ‘wife’ conceived to lure my child into a trap.” Regina’s voice leaves a rancid taste on Killian’s tongue and Robin’s finally biting his own. 

“Ah, how lovely that you allow your son to visit.” Killian turns with his best fake grin. “You look lovely.”

“Don’t start. We have one objective, Henry gets ten minutes with your daughter and Emma and then we’re back on the road.”

“Ten minutes?” Henry groans before moving closer to Killian’s side. “That’s not enough time to ask her favorite color.”

“I don’t think we had the pleasure of meeting.” Robin begins, taking a step toward Regina. “Robin Locksley. And you are?”

“Uninterested.” Killian’s seen him strike out before, but that was almost comical, how little chance he stood with the devil. Regina doesn’t even make eye contact with the poor bloke. 

“Alright.” Robin nods before turning back to Henry. “It was nice to meet you Henry. I hope you make another trip to Boston and get the chance to meet my son as well.” Robin heads in the direction Ruby left. Neither headed toward his office and it’s almost as irritating as the tapping of Regina’s shoe because they have no control over their disturbing need to discuss his life with everyone they can. 

“I’ll call Emma, hopefully catch her before Ellie’s at school. Perhaps they can meet us at Boston’s own version of Auntie Em’s?” He’s speaking directly to Henry of course. Regina is insane to think ten minutes is enough time for any of them, especially Ellie. 

“Fine. We’ll follow you.” 

-/-

The amount of stress she was already under getting mentally prepared to deal with Anna was more than enough to alarm any OBGYN on this side of the Western Hemisphere. Then Killian calls to tell her the unpredictable has happened. Henry’s in Boston and he knows who she is now. As if it wasn’t enough to worry about the way it makes her feel, makes Henry feel, she has Ellie who hasn’t stopped mentioning him each night when she asks for a story from his storybook.

She doesn’t tell her why they aren’t going to school. She doesn’t know how. She puts her in her car seat and absentmindedly ignores her stance on buckling her own car seat. When she kisses her forehead, Ellie grumbles about being a big girl, but Emma honestly needs a little more ‘baby’ right now because a baby wouldn’t ask her a million ‘why’s’ a day. 

When they reach the diner, Killian meets them just outside with concern in his oceanic eyes and that damn persistent scratching behind his ear. 

“Hey.” She sighs and he kisses her before all the frustrated breath is released. 

“He told everyone he was my son I never knew about to get into my office today. He gave Regina the silent treatment for a week to come here. I know I just sprung this on you but…”

“It’s okay. I just…If she still doesn’t want us contacting him, I don’t know how either of them will take it.”

“He calls her his sister.”

She knows what he said but she hears ‘bad idea’ over and over in her head. They’re both going to hurt over this and Emma has no experience in missing a sibling. She has nothing to offer them for the pain they’re about to be subjected to. 

“Should we do this with Ellie?”

“She already knows he exists Emma. At least give her a face to the name.” She nods, because what the hell else is she supposed to do? 

They enter the diner and Granny greets them before her eyes even spot Henry and Regina. “Hey there, Stranger.” She was literally here two days ago. Sometimes she thinks Granny wants Killian to move back upstairs. 

“Hey.” Emma presses her cheek against the woman’s, a familiar hand rubbing circles against her belly before she’s stepping away and showering Ellie in affection. Killian guides Emma to sit across from Henry and Regina. Her stomach drops to the booth bench before her ass can. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Henry grins at her but Regina looks like she’s envisioning a fiery death for Emma at this very moment. “So you’re my mom.”

“Your…biological mom, yeah.”

“Cool. I liked you before I knew that.” His smile only seems more familiar, more comfortable as he continues. “I really like Killian, I wish he was my biological dad.”

“If he was, I would have kept you.” She means to only think that part, but she’s so nervous her thighs are trembling against each other and her words come out quicker than her thoughts develop. “I mean…”

“No, I get it. Killian mentioned that my real dad left you with his crime. You were in a really crappy positon. You did your best.” Killian and Ellie appear at their side, Ellie on his lap and watching Regina and Henry with suspicion. 

“I did what I thought was best. My best wasn’t…I mean…”

“’scuse me.” Ellie interrupts softly. “I’m Ellie.”

“Hi Ellie!” Henry beams at her. “I’m Henry and this is my mom, Regina.” Suspicion turns to this dumbfounded, wide-mouthed look accompanied by overwhelmed tears.   
“You’re Henry?” She wipes dramatically at her cheeks as she wrestles herself out of Killian’s lap and walks around to Henry. “I can hug you?”

“Okay?” Henry sort of laughs, dropping down from the booth and letting Ellie’s arms wrap around his middle. He hugs her back and Emma finds she’s not that far from tears herself. 

“How big are you?” Ellie asks when the hug finishes and she wipes at her eyes again. Lately she’s been doing this, getting extremely overwhelmed by anything even slightly exciting. Last week she taught Jake a new trick and started sobbing, swearing she was just ‘so happy’ but this is a little different. Emma can almost see her counting the minutes in her mind until he goes away again. 

“I’m uh, I’m nine.”

“I’m five.” Ellie replies quickly. “Do you like grilled cheese? I know you like cocoa like me and my mom. I love the storybook you gave me. Can I tell people you’re my brother?”

“Ellie?” Emma can’t help but feel frightened that if she doesn’t stop her, Regina will. She’d rather be the one to tell Ellie not to do this than have a stranger make her feel half as small as Regina made Emma feel last month. 

“It’s okay.” Henry warns Emma before turning back to Ellie. “I like grilled cheese sometimes. I do like cocoa with cinnamon and whipped cream. I thought you’d like the book. It’s cool how your dad is Captain Hook, huh? Yeah, of course you can tell people I’m your brother.”

“Henry…” Regina begins but Henry holds his hand up to stop her. 

“Just because she’s my sister doesn’t mean you’re not my mom.” Killian locks eyes with Regina across the table in some sort of warning. She doesn’t want anyone to be upset because of this. She made her choice and she never thought it’d affect a single person to come in and out of her life. 

(She never thought she’d have anyone in her life.)

“Why don’t you both sit down?” Regina finishes, dropping Killian’s gaze and sliding close to the wall to make room for Ellie. 

“I can sit next to you?”

“Of course.” Henry smiles, sliding back in beside Regina and patting the space beside him. 

“What’s your favorite color? Do you like apple juice or orange juice? Did you know you get to have another sister soon?”

“Red.” Ellie gasps, but quickly remembers to let him finish speaking. “Uh apple juice I guess. My mom has an apple tree and she makes fresh apple juice some days when she’s in a good mood. And yes, I did know that. Still no name?”

“We want to pick a really good one.” Killian comments. 

“Henry, my mom’s favorite color is red, too!”

“Yeah?” The eye contact is brief but warm. Ellie wraps her arm around him and squeezes closer. “What’s yours?”

“Purple! I’m so happy you’re here.” He smiles at her with just as much endearment she possesses. 

“Me too. I’m glad I get to meet you. I always wanted siblings.”

“Really?”

“Of course. It gets lonely when your mom is your only friend.”

“Henry?” Regina is evidently uncomfortable with the whole thing. Emma chalks it up to insecurity, really. Ellie may think if Elsa were alive, she’d have two mothers, but if Elsa were alive she wouldn’t need Emma at all. They would never have gotten this close. 

“You have friends, kid. I’m sure you have friends.” God only knows why Emma wants to lessen this woman’s internal torment. 

“Not really, no one who ever wants to come over.” He shrugs, concentrating on the stray stitching of his scarf. 

“Alright, I have three cocoas with cinnamon, one earl grey and a coffee as black as the Evil Queen’s soul. I’m guessing that’s for you then?” Granny arrives with a serving tray, seldom she ever brings drinks if the place is well-staffed. She pushes the coffee toward Regina with a glare. She lightly places Killian’s tea in front of him, gives Emma her cocoa (the larger one with less cinnamon for the baby) and the other two are set delicately in front of Ellie and Henry. “You want to introduce me to your new friend, Queenie?”

“This is my Henry. He’s my big brother and that’s his mommy Gina.”

“It’s Regina.” Regina corrects. As long as she’s not correcting the relation, Emma counts it as a victory. 

“Oh, a brother? How refreshing. How old are you Henry?” Granny doesn’t judge, she doesn’t glance at either Killian or Emma, just makes polite small talk with Henry and runs her fingers through Ellie’s loose curls. 

“Nine.”

“Oh, when is your birthday? Mine is July 3rd. I had a core-uh-neigh-shun. I’m a queen ‘cause my mommy had died. My other mommy and my other daddy too and so I had to rule the kingdom.”

“Are you not a queen now?” Regina asks, almost genuinely interested. 

“Yeah, I still am Mrs. Gina.”

“Regina. And it’s Miss. I’m not married.” She isn’t rude, but Ellie isn’t an adult and perhaps constantly correcting her is a little out of the mayor’s lane. Emma can see Granny rearing up for a fight when Killian brushes his hand down her arm and wordlessly pleads with her to just let it go. Granny does as he asks, silently, but with a warning glare before leaving the table. 

“You have parents now.” Regina continues. “Why are you still queen?”

“I’m still queen ‘til my ‘doption is all done. We’re gonna have a party and my mom is gonna get my crown.” 

“Hmm.”

“Yeah.” Ellie glances at Killian for assurance and he nods quickly. It’s enough for her to return to Henry. “Anyways, when is your birthday?”

“August 15th,” Emma answers. It’s the only question she has the answer to really. Henry and Regina both stare at her like she misspoke, like she’s not supposed to remember the worst day of her life. 

“We are so close.” Ellie gushes, waiting for Henry to take a sip of his cocoa before she does from hers. It’s actually the most adorable thing Emma’s ever seen, with her leaning close to the cup and calculating how to sync the moment they can sip at the same time. She’s watching him and copying him and just so enamored with him. If there’s one thing Emma will never understand, it’s siblings, and she finds it the most fascinating dynamic there is. 

“Henry, is there anything you wanted to ask Emma? To learn about while you have the chance?” Killian must have felt the tension. He’s very perceptive. 

“Yeah, I wanna know about my dad.” Henry sets the cocoa down and Ellie follows. “Does he know I exist? Do you ever talk to him?”

“No and no.” Emma responds quietly. “I don’t even know if he still exists.”

“And how would you?” Regina questions like she’s been questioning everything. It’s funny she became the politician and not the pushy reporter. 

“I uh…before I got pregnant I used to find people. I’m a recovery agent.”

“A bounty hunter.” Regina corrects like Emma is five-years-old. 

“Drink your coffee, love. Your ears aren’t functioning right. She said ‘recovery agent.’” It’s a scowl and a pointed glare and somehow much more sibling-like than Henry and Ellie.

“And you tried to find him?” Henry stays on track.

“No where to be found. Missing without a trace.”

“Is that how you found my son?” The arch in this woman’s eyebrow is higher than her hairline. 

“She just wanted to make sure he has sandwiches to eat and warm sweaters to wear Miss Gina.” Ellie defends, a bad habit these Jones’ have. “She knows you’re a good mommy to Henry now and feels better.”

“It’s RAH-gina. There is an extra syllable you’re ignoring, honey. Regina.”

“I’m sorry.” Ellie frowns, scratching at her brow and scrunching her little nose. “I thought friends made nicknames. Ellie is a nickname.” 

“We’re not—”

“Eloise, come over here.” Killian cuts Regina off before the big bad witch of Storybrooke crushes his kid’s heart. 

“I’m sorry, I will say her name right.” Ellie replies. She’s already sniffling. For her to be so sensitive right now further institutes that bringing her was a bad idea. “Please don’t be mad at me, Miss Regina.” 

“Ellie, come over here now, please.” She slips from the booth reluctantly like her insides are just Jell-O. She makes the two steps to Killian the absolute slowest she possibly can, her bottom lip quivering the entire time. He picks her up and the second her butt hits his lap she starts whimpering and whining, her arms flung around his neck. 

“I don’t want her to take him away from us. I’m sorry.”

“Ellie, there are worse things you can do than try to be friendly to Regina. Smarter things yes, but worse things.” He seems angrier than he was the day they left Maine. “Don’t apologize again.” And then he narrows his eyes at Regina like she’s actually going to apologize. 

But here’s the kicker, she does. 

“I’m sorry Ellie. You can call me ‘Gina’ if you’d like. It’s kind of cute. I don’t have a lot of friends and—”

“Any friends,” Henry corrects as Ellie turns around to face Regina. 

“Well, any friends so, there are worse things that could happen than being friends with a kind queen like you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay. I know Henry has to stay with you ‘cause you are his mommy, but my Aunnie Anna lives far away and maybe he can meet her. She’s coming to visit today?” 

Now Emma’s not embarrassed. Not anymore. She had a kid at 17 and perhaps the moms at ballet would turn up their nose but people who matter do not. 

Except for the one person who unfortunately matters and still hates her. It’s not embarrassment, it’s just fear that Anna will see her even more unfit to take over Elsa’s responsibilities as Ellie’s mother. 

“I don’t know about that. We had planned to make this a day trip.”

“No, you don’t have to. We have tons of room at our house.” Ellie offers without any thought. She has been inviting people to stay at their house since before they moved into their own house. “We have my dad’s office, our guest room, my room, the nursery, my mommy and daddy’s room. Aunnie Anna has her own ‘partment. So it’s fine. Really.”

“Really, I think we better drive home. I left the town without a mayor.”

“Mayor?” Ellie turns back to Killian with a silent question. 

“It’s like the president of a small area. We have a mayor of cities, governors of states and presidents, prime ministers, queen’s, etc of countries.”

“Oh, you’re a queen like me!” Honestly, Emma is baffled that even Regina couldn’t find Ellie absolutely precious. The way her bright blue eyes light up or her smile full of tiny little teeth and just all things sincere and kind about this planet. 

“That’s a nice way to think of it.” Henry compliments and Ellie smiles at him so excitedly. 

“So you’ll stay?” Ellie reaches her hands across the table to Regina like she suddenly trusts her completely and all is forgiven. “Please!”

“Well…”

“If you’d like…” Killian clears his throat in hesitation and nothing else. “I’ll put you up in a hotel, and you won’t feel too exposed in our home. But…you are welcome to stay in our home.”

“You’d pay for my hotel?”

“The hotel you and Henry would be staying in, unless of course you’re comfortable with Henry stay—”

“No, he’ll stay with me.”

“Of course. I’ll have my assistant make the arrangements and he’ll have the address before we finish here.” He slides Ellie beside Emma and excuses himself to call Smee. Ellie scoots closer to Emma, swinging her feet behind her to rest on her knees and be tall enough to finish the conversation. 

“I’m so happy right now.”

-/-

Emma chose to go home and clear her head, insisting on bringing Ellie with her, so he reaches the airport alone. He feels like he’s back in high school with his hand stained in the ink that is supposed to read her terminal. 

He's been sweating so much it's really just a dark purple smudge that once looked like T-E. It looks like a 5 now, which completely throws him off because the terminals are by letters. 

“Miss, is it this way to International?” There’s a security guard eating an early lunch over a trashcan that he interrupts and she glares at him in reply. He can almost feel time ticking in his chest as she slowly chews and stares at him before swallowing it down. 

“You gotta stay right down here, buddy. We don’t let pick-ups upstairs.” And she motions to baggage claim. That answers absolutely no part of his question, and after the morning he’s had, and the mix of emotions about seeing Anna, he finds he would buy this damn airport just to fire her. 

“Right, and thank you, truly, for taking the two seconds to tell me that. Could you perhaps tell me if I’m in the international terminal?”

To which she points to a bloody sign above their heads reading ‘Terminal E, International Arrivals.’ He smiles briefly before taking to pacing around the baggage claim. 

Ten or fifteen minutes must have gone by when he glances back at the arrival sign to realize the Finland flight has arrived and the passengers are making their way down. He hesitates to walk back toward the escalators he’s noticed other travelers journey from as his loafers flatten against the linoleum. 

A rush of emotions come to shake him where he stands as he spots strawberry blonde hair in her signature braids and eyes roaming around frantically. 

“Anna!” his voice gives out, choked with those same pesky, complex emotions. She looks the same. She looks like she did when she was 12 and insistent on building forts in the living room and playing with dolls until midnight. She looks like she did when she was 14 and would wake him up at four in the morning to catch the first snowfall of the season. She looks like she did at 19, at his college graduation, with her eyes full of prideful tears and a contrasting little grin. 

She looks like she did a year and a half ago, when she walked out of Boston through this same airport, and out of his life. 

“Killian.” Her voice breaks too; into this soft little sob she covers with her hand as she moves slowly toward him. “Kilo…” She whines, suddenly sprinting into his arms. 

“Anna!” her name comes out like a barking laugh, but he finds his eyes overrun with tears all the same. Overwhelmed is an understatement. His heart is seizing and bursting, full and aching with hunger all at once. 

“I didn’t realize how much I missed you until now,” she sniffles, burrowing into his chest. “I really missed you.”

“I really—” he cracks before he can finish. He clears his throat to try again “I mean, I really bloody missed you, too.” He holds her a little longer, until the urge to cry subsides, until the reality that he has his little sister back sets in, and he can release her knowing she’s not disappearing again. 

(Not yet anyhow.)

“Kilo, my suitcases are going to get stolen.” She shoves him away a minute or so later. “This is America after all.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” He rolls his eyes, watching her scan the carousel. God protect her, she’s still the clumsy, fumbling bull in a China shop she’s always been. She’s squeaking and cringing when she reaches for the wrong bag and can’t grab her largest suitcase quickly enough. Her little frame almost gets taken away with the monstrous luggage. 

“Are you going to help me or just watch me struggle?” She calls back to him. 

“Well, what do your suitcases look like?” He asks, walking as slowly as ever to her side. 

“They’re big and black.” If only that didn’t describe every item on this carousel. 

“Brilliant.”

“And they have a plaid ribbon tied to the handle. There are three.”

“Three?” God forbid she wash anything while she’s here. 

“I’m staying almost three months, what was I supposed to do, bring a small back pack?”

“Yes! The same backpack you left with.” 

“Are you arguing with me already?” She groans finding another suitcase and tossing it at him. “We just need one more.” The larger luggage is still on the carousel, Anna holding onto it for dear life as it continues to bob and roll from the moving track beneath it. He grabs that one from her hand with a dramatic grunt. 

“For fucksake, did you pack your husband in here?”

“I wish! This is the longest we’ll be without each other.” She has the nerve to pout over the five days before Kris arrives. It’s been almost 19 months since she’s been home. “Kilo! There, right there!” She points to the last small duffle bag and waits for him, with the two suitcases he’s holding, to climb up and get it. 

“Then grab it Anna.” She literally climbs onto the carousel and wobbles on the edge a bit before bending forward and scooping the strap up. The security woman from before eyes them menacingly as he helps his sister down. It’s when she dismounts and holds her hands up like she ‘stuck the landing’ that he finally settles on one emotion—Joy. His little sister is home. 

-/-

“Can we listen to Motion?” 

They have a little less than an hour’s drive back to the house and they could probably get through one album. 

“Which record?”

“Commit This to Memory.” He could have guessed. He tosses her his phone after connecting the Bluetooth. 

“Just search ‘Motion City Soundtrack’ by pulling down on the home screen.” He sets his focus back on the road, happy to have the time to spend in the car with Anna. From the moment he got his license, they’d take long drives listening to Motion and breathing in the East Coast air. He remembers their album “I Am The Movie” becoming the literal soundtrack for the time he snuck Anna out to Portland, Maine for the best gourmet burger he’s ever had. Or that time they drove down to New York and watched them play, scoring her a fake ID to get into an 18 and older venue. 

“I’ve been living out of the country, not under a rock. I know how your phone works.” 

“Alright.” He shrugs, glancing over to find her staring a bit too long at his lock screen. It’s a black and white of Ellie kissing Emma’s belly from the photo shoot. “Did you dye your hair?” he noticed the white streak prior to now, but seems the best time to pull her away from whatever headspace she just entered. 

“It’s supposed to be bright white-blonde like Elsa’s, I did it for Elsa, but the blonde faded and now it’s just…” She shakes herself out of speaking, unlocking his phone and finding the music. 

The next few minutes are her just re-familiarizing herself with all the songs she left behind. God, it reminds him of when he was younger. He remembers relating to every word, feeling like a screw-up constantly in the shadow of his brother and remembering how much Liam hated that Killian got Anna hooked on the ‘noise.’

It’s probably halfway through the drive when ‘Time Turned Fragile’ plays. He wants to tell her to skip the song, but he can’t. It reminds him too much of Liam, reminds him of the way he’d leave him after an argument or scolding with some stupid words of wisdom that never made an ounce of sense until it was too late.

“Do you think he knew?”

“Who?” He knows damn well who. It’s hit a part where the music slows down, the words in the background are almost spoken, and so eerie and so…

“Liam.”

“Knew what?”

“That he wouldn’t always be around.” He wants to be compassionate, he really does. She’s always been easily bruised by bluntness and sarcasm and it’s not worth it to break her heart right now. 

But he can’t handle conversations a year and a half later because she wasn’t fucking around. 

“Everyone dies, so I’m sure he was aware he’d leave us one day.”

“But so soon?” Her voice starts to whine a little and it just irks him. “He used to tell us all these things like that dumb breadcrumb thing or…”

“Elsa told us about the breadcrumbs.”

“Well, you know what I mean. That thing he used to say about the best navigation system being your inner workings? What does that even mean? I still don’t know what that means.”

“What do you want here?”

“I want to know what the hell he was saying all those times we’d fight.”

“He was saying ‘Killian, you’re used to being the little brother but you’re the older brother now and you better start acting like it’ or ‘Anna, you’re perfect, darling. Don’t ever change.”

“Shut up. He scolded me, too.”

“He praised you for behaving like a child.”

She just turned 23 in March. She’s still just a child. So is he in the scheme of things, and maybe neither of them can handle a conversation about Liam without bickering because he’s still bitter and she’s still selfish.

“It means your gut will guide you. It will tell you where you need to be. It has nothing to do with directions. Home is where your heart is, and your gut will pull you back home.”

“Did you know that then? When he said it?”

“I didn’t realize it until just now, picking my sister up from the airport because she just came home.”

A beat goes by and she says nothing. He glances over to watch her smiling to herself. 

“You’re my breadcrumbs, Kilo.” 

The song ends and the heartache creeps back to their respective cages they’ve kept it in. Before he knows it, it’s another two songs later and they’re singing ‘Better Open the Door’ at the top of their lungs like no time has passed. 

-/-

“Swan?” The weight of him leaning over her is what actually wakes her up. The sound of his voice calling her name is comforting enough to keep from alarming her. 

“I thought I’d be awake by the time you came home.” She rises with his assistance, rubbing at her eyes before quickly searching for Ellie. When she fell asleep Ellie was right beside her. “Where’s Bug?”

“Bathroom.” He rubs his hand down her back, massaging a bit as he does. It’s stupid how she falls more in love with him every time he wakes her up with his eyes, and his smile and just his existence in general. He looks happy and for a minute, in her sleepy haze, she forgets why that may be. 

“Aunnie Anna is here?” Ellie rubs at her own eyes when she comes out of their en suite. Her voice is still raspy as she stumbles toward the bed, falling between Killian’s knees and clinging to his lower chest. It was an emotional morning for everyone and Ellie needed a nap just as badly as Emma. The aftermath of her naps are always cuddles and she knows Killian adores it. He scoops her up and stands, burying his face in her neck. 

“She’s waiting in the living room.” He’s answers after kissing her jaw and cheek. “You ready?”

“Yes.” Ellie nods with a simple smile.

When they make it to the living room, Emma watches as pictures come to life and the red head she’s seen on the mantle, and through the computer screen rubs a hole into the fur of Jake. 

“Anna…” Killian begins. She glances up at them and beams. “Is that Ellie Jo! WOW!” She lets go of Jake’s collar and shuffles past the coffee table to Killian. Ellie reaches for Anna from Killian’s arms and Emma stifles a laugh when Anna underestimates her weight. “Oh, you are so big now! Oh my god!”

“I’m five.” Ellie reminds her with her hand out. “You’re pretty. I like your braids.” 

If Emma remembers correctly, the last time Ellie was in Anna’s presence, she was only three-years-old. Right now, it’s as if she’s meeting her internet friend for the first time, not her aunt. 

“Thank you. Did you miss me?”

“Yes.” Ellie wraps her arms around Anna’s neck, hiding her face from view. 

“Why are you acting so shy, Love Bug?”

“I’m not.” Ellie mumbles within the crook of Anna’s neck. 

“I can’t believe how long her legs are.” Anna whispers to Killian, still shocked. 

Emma stands awkwardly to the side awaiting the very thing she’s been dreading for months, since they told her they were pregnant to begin with. Killian must catch on because a second or so later, he’s clearing his throat. 

“Anna, this is Emma.”

“The belly gave it away.” Anna sarcastically winks at her brother while shifting Ellie to her hip and taking a step forward. “And I’ve seen her through a computer screen periodically so…Hello.”

“Hello.” There was a time where Emma was the sarcastic asshole in every situation, but of course Karma is cruel. Now the prickly exterior she’s been shedding since knowing Ellie is what she’ll be forced to deal with from someone else. 

“Well, that was warm and fuzzy.” Killian mumbles before reaching for Anna’s bags. “Emma put a lot of thought and work into your dwellings. We should show you were you’ll be staying.”

“Sure.” 

It’s then Emma has to choose between letting Anna get to her or being still in arms over Henry coming to Boston. She’s too damn pregnant to let them both fester. Sure, it’s absolutely disheartening that Anna didn’t so much as shake her damn hand, and maybe she’s just adjusting to the East Coast air again, but her son just found out who she is and her daughter is frightened over losing him again so somehow a bitchy in-law just doesn’t measure up. 

They make their way to the garage, Emma had the old basement door switched out for something more homey and styled. It has a cute quad window and an anchor knocker for privacy. The stairs are now hardwood when they were once cement. She hears Anna make another snide remark about being outcast to the basement but she lets it roll off her duck back and focuses on not tripping down the last three steps. 

“Shit.” Anna sighs when she gets a look at the space. Emma’s not modest when it comes to hard work, she knows this place is beautiful. She made enough threats to her contractor and had enough design brainstorming to know she left her own heart in the navy colored walls with the detailed rope crown molding. This is not a basement any longer. 

“You like it?” Ellie asks softly. Emma doesn’t turn to meet Anna’s eyes. 

“It’s really nice.” Anna replies. “It’s…it’s actually amazing. I love the nautical theme, the floors are as pretty as the walls and the kitchen, oh my god, the kitchen is small enough for the space but so freakin’ gourmet. The sofa looks so comfy I could just sleep there. This is…”

“Killian wants you to have a home to come home to whenever you feel like it.” Emma cuts her off, finally turning to witness the gratitude on her face. 

“It’s really great. I can’t wait for Kris to get here in a few days and see it.”

“There is more.” Ellie says, still cuddled against her aunt. “My mommy designed your bathroom and your bedroom, too.” The gracious smile Anna was extending to Emma dissolves the second the ‘M’ word is out of Ellie’s mouth.

“Mo—Uhm…” Anna shakes the argument out of her with a shake of her head. “Sure. Let’s see it.”

Killian steps forward with all of Anna’s luggage and leads them to the bedroom. It’s just as well-thought out. The bed is a king size, with the same storage hutch Killian likes to incorporate in some of his ship designs. It looks a lot like a captain’s quarters. There’s paintings on the walls of abstract sea storms and blizzards in these large ‘porthole’ style frames. 

“The bathroom floors are heated.” Killian announces proudly as he sets her luggage down with a thud and moves toward the en suite. 

Emma waits in the bedroom, reminding herself to let it all go over her head and not straight to her heart; but this voice keeps nagging her, saying ‘Did you see her face when Ellie called you mommy?’ She considered not having Ellie call her it until after Anna had visited, after she had met her and spent time getting to see how much Emma loves that little girl but why would she put a five-year-old through that?

“Thank you Emma, it’s really nice.” Anna’s voice pierces her thoughts. 

“Of course.” She manages a smile. Ellie’s no longer in Anna’s arms, but transferred to Killian’s. And Anna suddenly has her arms wide open and is walking toward Emma. 

It’s an awkward hug. She’s usually hugged from the side these days, but Anna just presses against the baby, giving this stiffly tight clench around the shoulders before backing up a hair and molding her palms against Emma’s stomach. 

“When is she due again?”

“First week of February.”

“Oh no, another Aquarius.” Anna closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before crouching to talk to the baby. “Maybe you’ll stay in a couple weeks longer and be a Pisces like your Aunnie Anna, huh?”

“What is she talking about?” Ellie asks Killian, scraping her little nails along his jaw and watching him like he’s the brightest star in the sky. God he looks so happy, even Ellie can tell. He looks so damn happy and she will just die if she’s responsible for taking an ounce of that away. 

“Astrology. Everyone has a birthday right?”

“Yeah, mine is July 3rd.” Ellie reminds him as if he’d ever forget. 

“Right, that makes your Zodiac sign a ‘Cancer.’”

“Cancer is bad.” Ellie gasps. 

“Not this one. This is just a sign that Aunnie Anna firmly believes explains why you are the way you are and act the way you act.”

“Not just me, Ellie. Everyone who isn’t a big dummy.”

“Excuse me!” God, even the way he feigns insult is just incandescent. He’s adorable and so happy. She wants to feel that way about Anna being here, too. “I am not a dummy just because I refuse to listen to the stars about my personality.”

“Right, stars are wrong about personality but right about directions. Got it, sounds dumb, but got it.”

“You’re not dumb, Dad. You’re the smartest boy I ever even met.” Ellie compliments innocently enough, but the second sting appears in Anna’s face as she looks away from the two of them. 

“I’m going to unpack.” She says to no one in particular. 

“Since when do you unpack?”

“Two months is a long time to let my clothes just wrinkle in my suitcases, don’t you think? Besides, Emma built this massive closet. And, it was a long flight and I know you’re just disgusted that I haven’t hosed myself down in disinfectant yet.”

“Then I guess we’ll leave you to it. Ruby, Granny, Robin will be here for dinner tonight, along with Emma’s closest friends.”

“And my brother, Henry!”

“Brother?”

“I…” Emma watches as he searches for words, ashamed his pregnant girlfriend has been knocked up before. It’s irrational, but Anna barely tolerates her as it is, and she’s still waiting for the day someone decides to ‘give her back’ again. 

“You had an hour in the car and you didn—” Emma starts

“Tell me anything?” Anna finishes. “What brother? What is going on?”

“I guess I assumed Ruby texted you.”

“No. No, she didn’t text me and it sounds like it’s your business not hers.”

“It’s all of our busy-ness.” Ellie shouts because everyone else is shouting. “We’re family!”

“Ellie, shh.” Killian whispers, moving toward the bedroom door with her still in his arms. 

“Killian Bartholomew Jones.” He spins on his heels immediately at the name.

“You know that’s not my middle name, you arse.” 

“Is it ‘bastard?’”

“So many bad words.” Ellie groans, slapping her hand to her forehead. “You are not nice to each other. My brother is so nice to me. He got me a book and he…” Ellie stops short shaking her head and pressing against Killian’s shoulders to be set down. “Me and my mom are going upstairs and you guys gotta be nice to each other or you are not allowed to come upstairs and play with my dog or eat any ice cream or see my brother.” Ellie puts her little queen foot down before grabbing Emma’s hand and leading her away from the basement. 

-/-

She says something along the lines of “You complain about me not being here but never include me in anything.”

To which he replies “Be here and I wouldn’t have to.”

She doesn’t reply. She just stares blankly at the wall, doing this annoying thing she does to make her eyes water and he hates that he falls for it every time. 

“You said you were done bringing up how long I was away.” She finally says.

“Every time I try to let it go, I remember how much it hurt.” He counters.

“Yeah, well it hurt me too.” She resigns, her shoulders curling in on her, her eyes slowly fluttering closed. “I haven’t been just dandy the last 18 months.”

And he quotes her, from the day they died when he couldn’t move from that spot of linoleum because his lungs were collapsing in on themselves and his broken heart was weighing him down. Apparently the shattered pieces weigh more than the whole.

“We only have each other. It’s just you and I, Anna.”

“What were we supposed to do? Buy three-legged pants?”

“You’re absolutely horrid.” He shakes his head before dropping it to his hands.

“Ah, don’t flatter me, you goof.” She bumps her shoulder into his. “I wanna hear about Ellie’s ‘brother.’”

And he tells her about the little boy with the brightest hazel eyes he’s ever seen and the kindest grin with a dimpled chin to match his dimpled cheeks. He tells her about the warm lad who greeted him like an old friend from a lifetime ago. He tells her about Emma’s son. He tells her that Emma deserved a better youth than she had, and Anna shows empathy not judgment. He relates the ex who left her to rot in prison to the boy Anna once thought she loved and Anna gets it. She gets what it’s like to be young and believe pretty little lies and beautiful words. 

And she apologizes for judging Emma from the start. She tells him, promises him that she’ll try to make more of an effort. She just wants what’s best for him and Ellie. 

He doesn’t debate that her leaving wasn’t what was best. He doesn’t bother bringing up the last year and a half again. 

It’s not the ‘come-to-Jesus’ he had anticipated. It held no tears, no shouting, nothing but a little complacent humor and light ignorance. She acts like she’s years since the fifteen-year-old she used to be and he needs to treat her like it. He pretends he will, knowing damn well the second she starts showing her arse, he’ll be right back there, making her feel like no time has past. 

And eventually, the levee will break and the last eighteen months will drown them both in animosity and angst. There’s no way they won’t talk about it. Now’s just not the time.

-/-

This is the largest amount of people they’ve had in their new home since moving. Killian invited Belle as well, a last minute reminder to put more of an effort in their friendship. She asked if she should bring anything and he surprised everyone by insisting on ‘a date.’

She brought tiramisu. If anyone were to ask Emma, she’d have to say that was the best idea ever, but that’s mainly the baby talking. 

Emma avoids Anna and lets Killian introduce his sister to Mary Margaret and David. Anna remembers David from the hockey team, gushing over how excited Kris will be to see him when he arrives in a few days. 

She avoids Anna when she offers to carrying some of the dishes to the dinner table. She ignores Anna when she asks what time her ‘son’ will be there. She pretends she doesn’t hear her and doesn’t notice the look of disgust on her face every time Ellie refers to her as her mother. 

It’s just easier to pretend she’s not there right now as she prepares herself mentally for Henry and Regina to arrive. 

They’re clearing salad plates when the doorbell rings and the sound of Jake’s nails on the hardwood scatter toward the front door. Robin, Ruby, Granny, the Nolan’s, Belle and Roland have all arrived. Ella apologized, but couldn’t make it so that makes…

“Is it Henry?” Ellie is out of her seat and sprinting toward the door after Jake. “Jakey who is it?”

Killian makes eye contact with Emma and they rise in unison, excusing themselves from the table to get the door. He promises her he’s debriefed everyone but her friends and she advised Mary Margaret to just please not ask or act suspicious. Apparently, Anna took it well, but Emma can’t believe that. 

Ellie has her hand on the handle, impatiently waiting for them to reach her. She knows better than to ever open the door without one of them beside her. 

“Go on.” Killian allows and she can’t get the lock fast enough, her feet dancing in anticipation. She has her hair in a single French braid, little curly wisps framing her face. She swings the door open and her whole body sways with it, the braid weaving back and forth, almost distracting Emma from the visitors revealed as the door opens. 

“Henry!” He’s wearing a navy pea coat now, it’s certainly cold enough and Regina has on one of her own. “Hi you guys!” Ellie practically tackles him as Jake darts around him, sniffing him at all angles. 

“Jake, bed!” Jake quickly follows the command, backing away from Henry and walking back toward the living room. “I’m sorry, are either of you allergic to dogs?”

“No…Thank you.” Regina looks as uncomfortable as she sounds, her eyes focused on Henry and Ellie’s reunion. Henry’s hugging her just as tightly, like it had been years, not hours. If Regina chooses to cut ties after this, they’ll both be shattered. 

“Hi Gina.” Ellie hugs Henry’s mother too when releasing him. Regina is slow to hug back. “It’s still okay I call you that right? ‘Cause we’re friends?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Friends make nicknames.” Regina actually smiles for the first time since…well, she’s sure she’s seen the woman smile before, but Emma just can’t remember it now. 

“I can take your coats.” Emma offers as Ellie takes both Henry and Regina’s hands and walks them inside. 

“I would never ask a pregnant woman to do anything for me.” Regina hands her coat to Killian instead. Henry follows suit and Emma tries not to take offense. She’s taken more than enough today from Anna and to be honest, she’d rather just say ‘fuck it.’

They walk them back to the dining room, everyone’s poker face working in overdrive. 

“This is Mayor Regina Mills of Storybrooke, Maine and her son…Emma’s biological son, Henry Mills.” The only reason Emma continues to breathe during that introduction is the fear of cutting off oxygen to the baby. She’s all ‘hee-hee’s and ‘hoo’s right now as Killian pulls Regina’s chair for her, Ellie taking her brother back to the children’s corner with Roland.

“This is my brother.” Ellie explains to Roland and the poor kid has dealt with just as many transitions as Ellie this past year so for him to do anything more than scrunch his nose in confusion is asking too much. 

“Hi Ellie’s brother.” He says after Ellie glares at him. 

“Henry, this is my Roland. We’re kinda cousins.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, that’s his daddy, my Uncle Robin.” Ellie points, beginning the introduction portion of her evening. “That’s my Granny, you member her, that’s Granny’s um…well she’s Ruby and Granny is her granny, too. She also works with my dad and Uncle Robin at the ship busy-ness. That’s my Belle. If you like books than she’s the bestest friend to have, she makes people who write books get other people to read them. And she likes tea parties. Oh, and that is my mom’s best friends Mr. Nolan and Mrs. Nolan. Mrs. Nolan is my teacher right now so after she is not my teacher no more I can call her by her first name ‘cause we’re friends.” 

Henry waves at each person and Emma has to look away when Ellie gets to Mary Margaret and David. That woman is the worst at hiding her feelings and she looks so shocked and concerned, it’s just torture. 

“And that is my Aunnie Anna. She goes all around the whole world and she chases storms and blizzards and stuff but she’s home ‘cause my Uncle Kilo yelled at her a lot ‘bout not being here in a long time. He’s her big brother like you are mine and he just wants to see his sister more.”

“That was wonderful Ellie, really descriptive introductions.” Anna is smiling smugly at Killian as he encourages Ellie to the finish-line. 

“Thanks.” For the first time, Emma spots the slight resemblance of Anna when Ellie returns to her father with the same smug grin. 

“No really, I’m happy to be back in Boston.” Anna announces. “I will probably be living at Granny’s for the next few weeks so if anyone’s interested in having an American breakfast, lunch and dinner, call me!”

“Is Granny really your grandma?” Henry whispers to Ellie. 

“Uhm, yeah.” Ellie shrugs. “She loves me and I love her. My mommy says that’s all it really even means to be family anyways.”

Now that everyone’s here, Emma and Killian begin to serve dinner, everything he cooked turns out so perfect. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, Regina has even thawed a bit to Robin’s persistent flirting. It’s odd to think they’re going to do this again in a week with all the same people for Thanksgiving. It’s absolutely insane to think she’s going to even have a Thanksgiving dinner among friends and family, but the impossible aspect of this all is Henry sitting next to Ellie, laughing at a dinner table when she never imagined meeting him all those years ago. 

So she lets her guard down, between the happy little bubble Killian is in, the way Ellie smiles until her wide eyes crinkle, and Henry’s cheeks dimple it’s hard not to have hope. 

Hope still breeds misery when the other shoe drops after dessert. Everyone’s disbursed into their small groups around the living room. Ellie, Henry and Roland are playing with Jake in the play room. Robin is still following Regina around as Killian and Belle chat with Mary Margaret and David. Anna, Ruby and Granny get reacquainted and it just feels good. 

But it’s getting late now, and Regina mentions that she’s thinking of heading out. Henry gets a little gloomy and Ellie has this full-fledged pout. Killian senses it, leaving Belle and her friends to meet Regina at the coat closet. 

“Are you… Are you and Henry headed back to Storybrooke?” Ellie finds her father’s hand, burying her face in his slacks. When Emma approaches, she’s only got one bright blue eye peeking out from his waist. 

“Tomorrow morning, yes.” Regina answers like she doesn’t have to answer and everyone should feel privileged. It’s a pity, really, because she’s actually not that awful when her guard is down and she’s allowing herself to be normal. 

“Or…or maybe not tomorrow?” Ellie shrugs softly, peeking more out than just her one eye. 

“No, definitely tomorrow. We’ve stayed long enough.”

“When will you be back?” Ellie asks. 

“We’re not going to make a habit out of this, Ellie. I’m sorry, but…but Henry is my son and we live in Maine.”

“You’re not coming back?” Ellie whimpers, leaving Killian’s side completely to face Regina toe-to-toe. “Even for Christmas?”

“Mom, we should come back for Christmas. It’s only ever the two of us alone eating this huge turkey.” Henry speaks up. “This is the first time I’ve got to hang out with a kid and she’s my sister, it’d be fun to hang out with her on Christmas.”

“Henry, we talked about this before we drove here. You said we’d come and you’d let it go. We came, you met Ellie, let it go.” Regina tosses him his coat and slides hers on. 

“Can you just wait right here? I will be right back.” It’s the last thing she wanted, watching Ellie with these large tearful eyes frightened that the people she loves will always leave her. “Please just don’t leave ‘til I come back, kay?”

“Okay.” Regina agrees and Ellie takes off to her room, sprinting through the group gathered behind them in the living room. 

“We completely understand.” Emma attempts but suddenly finds herself too choked up to speak, so Killian, her left lobe, picks up where she left off. 

“And are incredibly grateful for the time we’ve gotten.” They look at each other and know it’s not enough. “But…perhaps they could Skype?”

“Skype?” Henry perks up but Regina seems weary. 

“When my sister was gone for the last year or so, Ellie and I would have skype dates with her. Maybe Henry and Ellie could video chat once in a while?” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Your daughter is very sweet, but I don’t believe giving her this false sense of hope is healthy.”

“And what is she hoping for that seems so unobtainable, Regina?” And now he’s starting to get upset and this whole thing is going to just blow open on them and Ellie and Henry will only end up shattered.

“A relationship with my son.” 

Time slows down and she can hear Ellie’s footsteps rushing back across the hardwood in her Maryjane’s. She slows when she reaches them, tip-toeing between Killian and Regina to meet Henry. She’s holding Sven and sniffling. 

“This is my Sven, and he’s a reindeer and I love him.” She begins, swiping a tear from her cheek before continuing. “I think I always had him since even I was a baby. I want you to keep him and think of me, because I sleep with him, but now I have your storybook and I want you to just…” She has to take these quick, overwhelmed breaths to keep from crying and Henry starts to sniffle in reply, holding his hands out to accept this raggedy stuffed reindeer she’s been crying into since her parents died. 

It’s horrible and Emma can’t help but feel every ounce of guilt wiggling into her gut beneath the baby she won’t be able to introduce to this sweet little boy. 

“I just want you to have him and member me and ‘member that I’m still your sister and I love you.”

Emma glances away as Ellie drops against Henry’s shoulder, burying her face and crying. She knows Killian has often been her rock, but he’s soft as a pillow now, with his own eyes glazed over. He crouches down beside where the two stand holding one another. 

“Hey, Ellie?” He attempts but his voice sounds barely there. Henry meets his eyes over Ellie’s shoulder. “Henry will be old enough, remember? One day he’ll be old enough and it won’t matter who raised him, because he can find you and be your brother okay.” 

Henry nods and starts making the most heart-wrenching, gasping sound that causes Killian to cover his own mouth and clench his eyes. Regina calls it off, saying something like ‘Alright, hug everyone else goodbye, too’ or something that’s slightly motherly but mainly just cold and heartless. When they break apart Ellie actually hugs Regina, which is more than Emma would have ever done, but you raise your kids to be better than you right? 

Henry hugs Killian first, this really strong hug for such a little guy, and Killian hugs him just as tightly back. It’s unfair how easy it is to fall in love with someone once you’re living with an open heart. Especially when you’ve lost enough to expectedly keep your heart closed forever. 

She squats to hug Henry herself, unsure she’ll be able to get back up when it’s over, but she hopes it never ends. She hopes she doesn’t have to watch him leave their lives. 

It’s been probably twelve hours since they met for breakfast this morning and it hurts like they’ve had him for years. He whispers he’s sorry before letting her go. Says he doesn’t want Ellie to be sad and maybe if he never came to Boston she wouldn’t feel this way. 

She can barely speak, but she tries her hardest to convey that it’s not his fault and he has done nothing wrong. She tries to remind him what Killian often reminds Ellie:

“You did nothing to deserve the way you feel right now. It’s not your fault, kid. You’re a very good kid.” He nods again, reaching for Ellie one more time before letting his mother guide him out of the door and out of their lives. Killian rises to shut the door behind them and Emma manages to stand up without falling over or throwing out her back. Ellie’s arms are folded over her stomach as she watches the floor beneath her feet. 

“Love Bu—”

“I just wanna go night-night right now.” She cuts him off.

“Do you want a story from your storybook?” 

“No, it will make me too sad right now.” She huffs, moving from her place near the door through the guests still in their living room and toward her room. Killian kisses the side of Emma’s head before taking off after Ellie, and it’s tough, because she just wants everyone to be gone right now so she can fix her family but she’s looking back at a room full of people watching her, waiting for her to break. 

“Hey.” Anna breaks away from the group, guiding Emma to the side. “Go be with them, I’ll take care of everything out here, alright?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. That was tragic, really. I’d be in a ball on the floor right now, so just go hold your daughter.” Anna says it without flinching or grimacing or any indication she still hates Emma for existing. It’s nice. Nice enough to let her somewhat-sister-in-law handle things while she goes after Killian and Ellie. Anna doesn’t let her go without a quick hug first. 

She gets to Ellie’s room to find it empty. Of course she’s sleeping with them tonight, Emma can’t really imagine it going any other way. She takes a minute to look for Ellie’s back-up, the teddy bear Killian bought her for Valentine’s day this past year. It’s the bear she brings to sleepovers when she doesn’t want to risk leaving Sven behind. 

Ellie’s not wearing her normal pajamas when she gets to their room. She’s in one of Killian’s band tee’s and he’s got her sitting on the bed while he stands behind her, taking out her French braid. If there’s one role she’s taken since they’ve met, it’s hairdresser, but it always stills her world to see him do Ellie’s hair. 

Emma takes a seat next to Ellie on the bed, handing her the bear. 

“Oh, Fredrick.” Ellie gives her a quick smile. “That was a good idea, Mommy.” She gives him a quick kiss on the nose before setting him in her lap. 

“Bug, are you okay?”

“Uhm…” She starts to shake her head with a sigh, but forces a smile. “Someday Henry can be my brother and Gina can’t tell him he can’t.” Ellie always tries to be mature and Emma’s not sure if it’s to keep herself happy or Killian. 

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“And maybe I’m sad now, but tomorrow will be a new day.”

“Ellie, that’s all really great.” Emma tickles her bare knee softly as she continues. It’s Killian’s tactic, really. All serious conversations start at a point of comforting contact. He read it in a book somewhere. “But you can tell us how you really feel. It’s okay if you’re upset. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Ellie lifts her chin high enough to meet Killian’s eyes and he nods in agreement. She drops her chin to contemplate Emma’s words for a minute before speaking. 

“I’m not upset. I’m mad.” She begins. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smacks her hand on her thigh with frustration. “I’m mad ‘cause I’m always a good girl. I am, I always make my bed, Mommy. You know I do.”

“You’re right. You definitely do.”

“And I do my homework. I listen to you guys and I am nice to my friends. I always share. I’m a good girl. I never have even gotten coal from Santa. I’m a good girl.”

“You’re a very good girl, Love Bug.” Killian finishes undoing the last bit of her braid, running his fingers through her hair and loosening the locks from her scalp down. 

“Yeah.” Ellie nods her head, so sure of herself. “But bad stuff happens to me anyway. That’s not fair. How come I love people and they always go away from me?” Her wide eyes water and she tugs at her lower lip, clearly frustrated. 

“It’s nothing you do, Ellie.” Emma exhales a bit shakily. She wants to be strong but this is the hardest lesson anyone ever learns and it sucks to tell her five-year-old. “Bad things happen to good people all the time. Good things will happen to bad people too. It’s not fair, and sometimes it makes you wonder why you’re even trying to be a good girl if you’re gonna have to hurt anyway.”

“Yeah! Why do I even be good?”

“Because it’s good for you. Good things will happen too, babe. Good things will happen to everyone and bad things happen to everyone but you will be happier being a good girl than you ever could doing bad things. Okay?”

“But it’s not fair.” 

“It’s not.” Emma agrees because there’s nothing else to say. It’s really not fair that at five-years-old, she’s had her heart ripped out before. It’s horrible and devastating and anything but fair. 

But it also made her who she is today. 

“You know what though?”

“What?” She huffs, holding Fredrick a little closer to her chest. 

“Going through tough times and dealing with unfair, hurtful, bad things is really what makes you who you are. And you like who you are, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” She exhales, rubbing at her wet, tired eyes. “I love myself.”

“And Killian has had a lot of bad things happen to him too, and you love him, don’t you?”

“More than anything.” She vows, much more sure than her last statement. “I have a lot of best friends but he is my very most best friend.” Her chin rises back up to glance at him and his smile is just sunshine. “I love you so so much.”

“I love you more, my queen.” He kisses her forehead from above. “Emma’s been through so much as well. She’s still a good person.”

“She’s the best mommy. She is so good to me and loves me so much.”

“I do. I love you so much and it’s because you’re perfect, but also because I never had love in my life before I met you. I’m really desperate to give you as much love as I can and enjoy every ounce of love you give me in return.”

“’Cause we are all thankful.” It’s a discussion word this week in her class. They’ve been learning all about being ‘thankful’ in time for Thanksgiving. “My first mom died so I am very lucky to get a new one, and I have to be extra thankful ‘cause so many kids who don’t have mom’s go all their lives without mommies. Like you?”

“Like me.” 

“And you are thankful for my dad ‘cause he tells you you’re special every day.”

“And he loves me more than anyone ever has.”

“And he’s handsome.” Ellie may be protective over Emma, but on days it’s just the two of them, she’ll often ask Emma to list the reasons she loves Killian so much like she just needs the assurance that Killian won’t get hurt in the end. Sometimes Emma adds his good looks to the list.

“Yes, that too, but don’t tell him that, remember?” 

“Oh right.” Ellie smiles genuinely again. “Dad, you did not hear that.”

“Right. Not a word.” He settles beside her on the bed, guiding her chin to face him. “I think it’s time for bed now, Ellie. Do you feel okay enough to fall asleep?”

“Yeah. I feel a little better. I’m not mad anymore. I just will really miss my brother.”

“We all will.” He glances quickly to Emma conveying just how quickly he’s come to care for Henry as well. “We all will.”

-/-

She wakes to an empty bed. Ellie was snuggled between them all night, and now she’s rolling over to a cooler half of their mattress. 

There’s a mixture of voices in the kitchen once she’s pulled on his sweats and extra set of house shoes. She walks in to find Anna, Ellie and Ruby sitting in a line at the island, eating crepes and bacon. If there’s one person she didn’t expect in her kitchen at 9:30am it’s Ruby. 

“Morning.” The three ladies turn and smile at her, Anna and Ruby quickly returning to their breakfast as Ellie smiles a Nutella covered grin. 

“Hi Mommy. We let you sleep ‘cause the baby was so tired.” 

“Was she? Just her?”

“Just her.” Killian comments, coming out of the pantry with the bag of chocolate chips. It’s like he heard her coming, because she hates bananas in her crepes and loves chocolate chips. “Morning Beautiful.”

Her feet carry her to him without warning, her mind blanking at everything else going on in the room. When she meets her destination, he cradles her cheek softly, pressing a chocolately kiss to her lips and a sense of peace to her gut. 

“Let me guess, you woke up early to clean the kitchen?”

“False, it was clean when I got in here.”

“Anna?” Emma turns to her ‘somewhat’ sister-in-law.

“Nope.” Anna almost chuckles at that and Emma faintly remembers her expressing that she’s a bit of a mess. 

“Mary Margaret insisted on staying last night and cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. David cleaned up the playroom and the living room. She even sent Ellie flowers this morning. A1 friends you have there, Emma.” Ruby states between a strong swig of orange juice and a large bite of bacon. 

“She sent you flowers?” Ellie nods to Emma’s question as her mouth is full. After a swallow and a sip of apple juice, she smiles widely. 

“Aunnie Anna read the note. It says ‘Let hope bloom in your heart, Ellie.’ Get it? ‘Bloom’ because flowers bloom.” If there’s anything Ellie loves, it’s getting flowers. They’re so opposite in that sense, but she adores having fresh flowers in the house. For Ellie’s answering smile, Emma supposes she can deal with the gnats they bring. 

“Clever. That was really nice of her, huh?”

“Yeah, she’s so nice to me. I want to call her later to say thank you.”

“Of course.” Emma glances back over at Ruby, still shocked she’s in pajamas in her kitchen but she keeps her mouth shut when Killian nudges her with a fresh plate of food. 

“So, Thanksgiving dinner is going to be a little calmer right?” Anna asks but Killian completely ignores her, asking his own question. 

“Ruby, are you planning on staying with Anna every night until her husband comes?” And Emma may be groggy, but the way Killian lingers on the word ‘husband’ is suspicious to her.

“Uh…I’m sorry I haven’t seen my best friend in almost two years.” Ruby shrugs. 

“We should all have a sleepover with tents.” Ellie suggests. It’s her number one suggestion in any given circumstance. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. Ruby might be trying to hog your Aunnie Anna to herself.”

“If Allie was gone for a long time, or Gabby, I wouldn’t want to share either. I would, ‘cause I’m nice, but I wouldn’t want to.”

“I’m nice.” Ruby playfully nudges Ellie. 

“No, you’re a masochist.” Killian corrects with a wink.

“Fuck off.” Ruby mumbles. 

“That was not nice.” Ellie comments before filling her mouth with another gooey bite. Seconds later Ruby and Anna manage to finish around the same time and leave the kitchen, not so much as rinsing their plates. Killian just smiles to himself proudly before starting on dishes. 

“Have you eaten?”

“I will.” He says over his shoulder. 

“What was that about with Ruby? Why are you giving her a hard time?”

“She’s giving herself a hard time.” He replies in this comical tone like everyone is in on the joke. 

“Why?” She repeats again, taking her food to sit beside Ellie. Killian doesn’t answer immediately. He pre-washes their plates and loads them into the dishwasher. He wipes the counter down and shuts off the griddle. He pours Emma a glass of apple juice since orange has been giving her heartburn lately. 

He basically takes his sweet ass time to reply and only after Ellie finishes and he asks her to go grab her dress and tights from she had on yesterday from their room and put it in her basket does he speak to her. 

“Regina sent me a text this morning.” 

“What?”

“She wants to apologize for leaving like that. She said Henry was angry and upset all night. He wouldn’t let her try to console him.”

“What does that mean?” She asks across from the counter top. He braces himself on his palms, leaning closer to whisper. 

“It means she’s considering that skype idea. She’s considering more than that but she doesn’t want to make any promises right now.”

“What’s more than that?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe we could drive up every couple of months. Maybe… I don’t know, maybe we’ll work up to summers with us?”

“Killian, I don’t know what’s worse: getting Ellie’s hopes up or yours. This woman isn’t interested in sharing her kid with us.”

“But she is interested in making him happy.” He argues like he’s Ellie and trying to manipulate another cookie before dinner. “Maybe she only lets Ellie talk to him. That’s enough for me. I don’t want to ever watch either of them feel the way they did last night. 

“And I get that, baby. I do, but false hope is worse than where she’s at now.” He considers her words for a minute before sliding her the vase Ellie’s flowers are sitting in now. 

“I have to disagree. She’s in Kindergarten Emma, and Henry would be the third person she lost from her life. I’m not going to let her lose anyone if she doesn’t have to. You may be afraid of Regina, but I’m not. I’m willing to reason with her. It’s important to them both.”

“I’m not afraid of her. I’m afraid of her unpredictable selfish tendencies. What happens when she realizes Henry smiles more when he’s with us than her? She’ll blame us and rip him away from Ellie. What happens when he starts looking forward to these Skype dates all week? When he wishes he was here instead of Maine? When the baby comes and he can’t physically meet her?”

“I’d rather be optimistic about it. I’d rather hope he looks forward to it, hope it gives him more confidence to make friends at school and…” He stops at the sound of Ellie’s footsteps. She arrives in the kitchen with Jake maybe a second after he stops talking. 

“What?” She looks around like she knows they were talking about something privately. 

“Nothing.” Emma answers quickly because Killian can’t do anything remotely close to lying. 

“Daddy?” Because apparently Ellie knows that. 

“Regina sent me a message suggesting maybe we could have Skype dates with Henry. He was equally upset when he left last night.”

“Really?” Ellie’s immediately grinning. 

“Ellie, listen…” Emma begins, spinning around on her stool to catch Ellie’s full attention. Ellie stop smiling and looks to her. “Regina can always change her mind and we just have to accept that if she does.”

“Why would she change her mind?”

“We don’t know, but she could.” 

“Can I call her?” Ellie doesn’t ask Emma, evidently unhappy with her realistic responses.

“I don’t think there’s anything for the two of you to talk about.” Emma answers anyhow. 

“I wanna ask her to not change her mind because I really want Henry to not go away from me.”

“I’ll relay the message.” She stares at Emma, definitely wanting to argue, but she settles for folding her arms and pouting. 

“Love, perhaps she could speak with Regina.”

“No.” Leave it to Killian to always fold for Ellie. He lets her make the majority of her own decisions, and usually she agrees with it, because Ellie is very smart, very kind-minded but this is a bad idea. 

“I’ll text Regina back and ask if it’s okay that Ellie speak with her directly. She just wants to understand.”

“I’m—” she wants to argue but it seems futile with the two of them teaming up. “Fine.” 

Within five minutes, he has Regina on speaker and Ellie holding the phone, asking her questions about it. “Can we have Skype dates?” and “Will you change your mind?” and “I really love Henry and that’s all that matters right?” 

They’ve honestly backed the woman into a corner. What warm-blooded mother wouldn’t respond well to a five-year-old begging to let them love their son?

By the end of the phone call, Regina not only agreed to skype dates, but Ellie talked her into visiting for Christmas, promising her that Killian would rent a really nice hotel room and pay for everything she needed while she was here. He beamed and laughed. 

It’s all fun and games until she’s sixteen and promises her principle a new car to keep from getting detention.

The phone call doesn’t finish without Regina allowing Henry ten minutes to talk to Ellie.

“Your mom says you can come back for Christmas!”

“I know she just told me!”

“It’s ‘cause she knows we love each other and want to be brother and sister. She knows we will be sad.”

“I was really sad last night when I thought she wouldn’t let me see you again.”

“Me too but I just kept hoping she would change her mind. I’m so happy she changed her mind.”

And they probably mention how happy they are another ten times. Ellie tells him Jake really loves him already. Henry mentions that he thinks his mom has a crush on her Uncle Robin. Ellie laughs and suggests that maybe the two of them get married so she gets to see him all the time.

She learns then that she and Killian live with two different theories on hope. Where she knows the misery it can bring, he considers it a thing with wings, something stupidly contagious and exciting. She can’t understand it, but she finds it’s just another thing she loves about him.


	18. Situation Escalated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY IT HAS BEEN SO LONG! Thanks for sticking with me and for all the love this fic gets! 
> 
> Special Thanks to RavenclawPianist for being my beta!

 

Situation Escalated 

 

Instead of waking up to Ruby, like she has the last few days, there’s a loud, blonde man in her kitchen this morning. He took the earlier flight to get here the day before Thanksgiving. The airport is more than likely an absolute nightmare and she’s thankful Killian and Anna made the drive without her this morning.  


She’d be a tad more thankful if she didn’t have to endure an awkward first impression in a bathrobe.

 

“Sister!” He cheers, rising from the barstool and making his way to her personal space in no time. “It’s good to finally meet you!” and when he hugs her, she fears for her child, because it’s tight and air-constricting. The silver lining should be that he hugged her at first meeting, where Anna just barely acknowledged her existence. It should be that, but instead, the silver lining is Killian shouting for him to unhand her before he ‘bursts the belly.’

 

Killian shoves Kris playfully to the side before displaying how one should handle such ‘precious cargo’ his arms gently wrapping around her middle as he buries his stubbly chin in the nook between her neck and shoulder.

 

“On second thought, don’t touch her like this either.” He mumbles against her cheek, laying a quick peck there before disentangling himself from her. “Just leave my lady love alone.”

 

“Why are you yelling so early?” Ellie and Jake make an appearance only a second later, her voice scratchy and sleepy. Kris immediately approaches Ellie and Jake shuffles between them, giving off a warning howl.

 

“A queen and her guard.” Killian muses from beside Emma. “Eloise, do you remember who this is?”

 

“Uncle Krissy?” Ellie blinks a few times before giving Jake a signal to sit beside her. He lifts her in his arms and squeezes. “You are at my house!” She laughs so joyfully, “I have not even seen you in so long. I’m happy you’re here!”

 

“Me too, you’re so big now!”

 

“I’m five.” She holds her hand up as Kris settles her on his hip. “My dad says I’m getting bigger every day.”

 

“I believe it. Last time I held you, I feel like I had to support your head.”

 

“No you did not, Kris.” Anna argues, smacking him on the shoulder. “She was three when we left.”

 

“That’s a long time.” Ellie subtracts two fingers from her hands to put up three. “That’s two years.”

 

“Wow, she definitely didn’t do subtraction when I last held her.” Kris chuckles and Killian sort of looks on with a fading smile, like the joke dies on his end when the mention the time they missed out on.

 

“Yeah. I’m in Kindergarten now.” Ellie educates as Killian makes his way around the island to take Ellie from Kris’ arms.

 

“And she needs to eat before school, isn’t that right?”

 

“Yup. I gotta eat and feed my dog.”

 

“Why does she have to go to school?” Anna whines. “We’re gonna go grocery shopping and to Granny’s. I don’t want her to miss out on all of that.”

 

“She’s in Kindergarten, it’s half a day. She’ll be out in less than five hours.” Killian reminds Anna. He does that a lot, reminding her of things he’s just mentioned less than a day ago, and each time he does, he sounds more and more irritated.

 

To be honest, he’s been more irritated than not by his sister’s presence. They’ve been bickering all week and it’s driving Emma to a state of irritation herself. If this is what it means to have siblings around, she’s not exactly thrilled for the later years with Ellie and the baby.

 

-/-

 

They go grocery shopping without Ellie. It’s too busy in the grocery store anyhow, and with her persistence on being ‘too big’ to sit in the cart, Killian would have a conniption if someone bumped into his love bug without apologizing.

 

Anna and Kris think rum is a necessary addition to the grocery list, and proceed to put not one, not two, but three bottles in the cart from the spiced kind to the sugary coconut stuff. The baby manages to kick just as Emma’s reminiscing on the affects of alcohol.

 

Killian and Anna argue about Elsa’s recipe for five minutes in the canned goods. He insists on fresh green beans and Anna laughs in his face, saying he remembers Elsa incorrectly. Naturally, it doesn’t sit well with him so he slams an arm full of canned green beans into the cart and hisses at her, rolling over her foot as he storms off down the aisle.

 

It’s a fucking nightmare and Emma wishes she would have just stayed home.

 

Emma sneaks out of the house when they come home to unload. They’re picking Ellie up in T-minus two hours, but she had already planned this coffee date with Ingrid weeks ago and does not plan on cancelling.

 

She manages to escape with one kiss and two promises to ‘be careful.’ Traffic might be a nightmare, but so is her home right now.

 

-/-

 

One week into her stay and he starts to wonder why he wanted her to come back in the first place. She’s bloody insane. Everything she does has a way of burrowing itself beneath his skin and with Kris here encouraging her, he feels his fuse dwindling down to live wires.

 

“What are we doing for dessert?”

 

“If I tell you the menu again, Anna…”

 

“Don’t be so grumpy, Kilo.” She elbows him in the ribs while he’s prepping the vegetables for tomorrows stock.

 

“Why don’t you go bring up all my missing dishes from your room.” He suggests after serving Ellie cereal in a coffee mug this morning. Some things never change. She’s the worst hoarder he’s ever met. “And while you’re here, we’re going through the storage and throwing out everything you don’t want shipped to you.”

 

“No we’re not.” Anna replies, moving toward the garage door. Kris lingers in the kitchen, smirking behind his glass at Killian.

 

“What?”

 

“I missed this, Killian vs. Anna. It’s always a riot.”

 

“People die in riots. There’s yelling and destruction and someone winds up hurt.”

 

“Yeah, pretty much what I just said.” Kris winks before pressing himself away from the counter. He’s following Anna down to their quarters and Killian has to call back about bringing the glass in his hand back up with him.

 

Why did he think this was a good idea?

 

-/-

 

She tells him about her coffee date in the car on the way to Ellie’s school. Anna and Kris are only halfway listening to them anyhow and she’s actually too excited to not talk about it. She’s not sure when they crossed over into this territory, into the point where any happy moment in her day needs to be shared with her significant other, but she finds even the smallest of perks are like hot copper pennies burning a whole in her pocket.

 

“Renovating fixer uppers and selling them for a profit.” He repeats back to her once the news is out. “Like all those shows you watch?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, Ingrid was here a week ago and did an estimate of our value now. It went up from 1.2 to 1.75 and I only spent 32 grand on renovations. That’s, like, double.”

 

“It is, you’re right. I don’t doubt for a moment you’ll make plenty profit.” He glances at her quickly with this prideful smile. In the midst of it all, he remains her number one fan, her best friend and the best thing to happen to her.

 

“Thanks.” She smiles to herself as his attention is drawn back to the road. “I just need an investor or two and I’ll be set.”

 

“Investor?” Anna suddenly tunes into their conversation. “Why? Why can’t Killian just buy the property?”

 

“That defeats the purpose of me making my own money.” Emma answers although it’s really none of Anna’s business.

 

“Sure, the first house, but you will have enough money to buy the next one, and keep turning profits until you’ve doubled your money and can pay my brother back.”

 

“Thanks Anna, that’s a great idea. I’ll have to consider it.” Emma quickly replies to shut her up as Killian pulls into the school parking lot. “You know what, if you guys just stay here, I’ll run in and get her. I have to ask Mary Margaret about tomorrow anyway.”

 

“I thought she told you she was coming already?”

 

“No, she is. I need a pie recipe…or something.” She slides from the truck carefully and slams the door behind her. She’s been biting her tongue, just chalking Anna’s annoying tendencies up to her third trimester irritability. It makes no sense to wage a war against Killian’s sister. She’ll only be here a month and then she goes back across the ocean and Emma can go back to life as she knows it.

 

“Swan?” she didn’t hear his car door shut, but there are children yelling and cars honking and her own thoughts going wild. He tugs on her bicep and she yields to oncoming traffic. “Hey, I’m sorry about Anna.”

 

“I don’t want it to start another money argument between us. I don’t want you to buy me my first property.” He’s sweet and he loves her but he has this fixation on providing for her and it’s the opposite of what she wants their lives to be like.

 

“I know. Notice, I said absolutely nothing.”

 

“Yeah, I noticed, but I also know you’re private in your arguing.”

 

“Emma, I’m not fighting you on anything. I support you, I’m proud of you, and I’ll do whatever you wish to help you succeed, even if that only means bringing lunch to a jobsite.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes. Now, I’d like to kiss you in celebration of you realizing your next career move.” There are probably 20 five-year-old onlookers, but she lets him wrap his arms around her waist in the middle of the parking lot and kiss her.

 

Some days it’s like a goddamn earthquake, catching her off guard and wrecking her walls. She spent years building bricks around her heart and he’s only spent a few months meticulously stripping her of her defenses. Sometimes it was a week-long discussion, destroying one cement block but there are times like these where it feels like a dozen come tumbling to the ground, effortlessly.

 

“I love you,” he whispers the words she wanted to say. She wonders if she has any inhibitions left when she stands before him completely smitten.

 

“I want you forever.”

 

“Daddy!” Ellie sprints to Killian before he manages to get on the sidewalk fully.

 

“Love Bug!” Killian calls back out, taking two large steps before bending and lifting Ellie into his arms. “How was school?”

 

“Good, how was not school?” She replies.

 

“Oh, just wonderful. I fell a little more in love with your mother just now, so absolutely splendid, but better still now that you’re out of school for the next four days.” Ellie smiles at her sneakily before hiding her face in Killian’s shoulder. “Are you ready to go to Granny’s?” Ellie nods, turning her head to view Emma. She’s still grinning when their eyes meet and the ache in Emma’s cheeks only signifies Ellie’s not the only one smiling this wide.

 

-/-

 

“If it isn’t Anna Jones.” The nametag reads ‘Anastasia’ and it’s not an unfamiliar one. She’s probably served them a few times but usually the kinder servers take care of them.

 

“Ana…Hi. It’s actually Anna Jones-Olavich. I got married.”

 

“Right, I remember, it was so soon after graduation, everyone thought you were trying to cover up a baby.” Anastasia laughs as if it weren’t a really rotten thing to say.

 

“I beg your pardon?” Killian steps forward to defend his sister when Kris ushers him back a step.

 

“Oh, it’s so cute that your brother still stands up for you.” Anastasia looks over Anna’s shoulder at Killian. “Stand down, soldier. We’re friends.”

 

“Well, friendly. But…”

 

“Oh, and it is just so sad what happened to Liam and Elsa. You know, we used to wonder if you died with them, with how quickly you disappeared.”

 

“Who is the ‘we’ you keep referring to?” Killian steps up again. It’s upsetting how passive Kris is during this slaughter because if Emma were being harassed by anyone, he would not stand behind her and listen.

 

“Ya know, the girls.”

 

“The girls who work here? Those girls? Or, the mean girls in your head?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You could have excused yourself five minutes ago, love.” Killian waves her off before turning Anna around and directing her toward their booth. Kris leads the way, sliding all the way in as she follows.

 

Ellie and Emma slide into the other side. He contemplates who to sit beside and chooses Ellie when she reaches her hand for him. He piles in beside them, pressing his forehead to Ellie’s when she continues to beam at him.

 

“I love you extra today.” She whispers.

 

“Yeah? Extra? Just today then?”

 

“Yeah, I always love you, but even extra more today.” He’s not sure what he’s done so well on this day in particular, but it warms his heart all the same.

 

“Well, I love you extra today, too.” He glances over her head at Emma’s smiling face.

 

“And my mom, too?”

 

“Yes, your mother, too.” He winks.

 

They order with a different waitress, Marcy. Emma has a warning from Whale to keep the sodium intake down so instead of her usually grilled cheese and onion rings, she orders a crispy chicken salad. Ellie orders the same in hopes it will help Emma not crave a grilled cheese as much. Killian gets the fish and chips. Anna gets Liam’s favorite: a turkey-bacon club on marble rye. Her husband just gets a burger. He says it’s damn near impossible to get a normal burger in Europe, they all have weird happenings and American cheese isn’t in existence. Killian isn’t sure how true that is, but he doesn’t argue.

 

They spend a little time recalling details from Anna and Killian’s teenage years. They only attended the same high school for one year. He was a senior when she was a freshman and he did everything to avoid her if you let Anna tell it. Killian remembers differently and he tells them as much.

 

He remembers her asking him not to overcloud her. Anna likes to talk a lot, and she gave this speech the night before their first day of school that year. He tells Emma and Ellie about the ‘Sunflowers can’t bloom in the shade of an oak tree’ line to which he explains that Anna actually referred to his 17-year-old self as an oak tree. These trees are known to be hundreds of years old so of course it’s only fitting.

 

“I just wanted to find my identity.” Anna defends. “I grew into the sunflower I always wanted to be.” She says this, but when Liam and Elsa died, she threw everything she was into the harbor and fled the country.

 

“And you’re still that woman?”

 

“Well, we lose some petals along the way, but I’d say so.”

 

“Hm.” Before Anna can harass him for a more elaborate response, Granny approaches the table.

 

“You’d think spring is here, now that you’ve awoken from your hibernation.” Granny sets her hands on her hips and looks above her glasses and down at Anna. “I thought you’d be spending every meal with me. Ain’t that what you said last week at dinner?”

 

“Well…”

 

“I know you’ve been spending the majority of your breakfasts with Ruby.” Killian settles back against the booth. He’ll defend Anna in front of anyone but Granny. With Granny she’s on her own.

 

“We’ve got a lot to catch up on.” Anna shrugs.

 

“Don’t play ditzy. What did I tell you last time?”

 

“I don’t know how to play ditzy, Granny.” Anna promises with her hand over her heart. “Killian stuffed me in the basement, as nice as it is, it’s still muffled by cement and no one will hear my screams. Kris didn’t fly in until this morning, and Ruby and I have just been hanging out like old times.”

 

“It better not end up like old times, Anna.” Anna opens her mouth to defend herself again but Granny cuts her off. “And don’t give me any nonsense about you not knowing what I’m talking about.” Anna seals her lips and looks down at her half-eaten food.

 

“It’s good to see you, Granny.” Kris says as an awkward silence blankets the table. Killian looks down at Ellie, who continues to crunch on crisp lettuce and crispy chicken.

 

“You too.” She replies before smacking Killian on the back of the head. “And you, when am I gonna get a name for this baby? How do you expect me to knit a blanket for you?”

 

“Oh, we have a name.” Ellie speaks up, only stoking the flames Granny is cooking everyone with right now.

 

And they do have a name finally. A first name, a very good first name which will surely work well with whatever middle name Ellie picks. Why is a five-year-old picking the baby’s middle name? Well, Emma couldn’t come up with a first name and offered Ellie the job. Ellie jumped at the opportunity, but that’s not really a job for a little girl, so he had to beg and barter with her. Now Ellie will be choosing the middle name. Parenting is all about compromise.

 

“Is that so? Let me hear it?”

  
“Can’t. It’s a secret.” Ellie shrugs at Granny’s raised brow. “We’re gonna put it on a stocking and tell it to everybody at Christmas.”

 

“Oh, you don’t dangle a secret and not share, Eloise. What’s that you call it, Killian? Bad form.”

 

“My daddy wants to keep it a secret, not me. I don’t even like secrets, Granny.” Killian feels the back of his neck warm under the scrutiny.

 

“So then you don’t expect a blanket for this one?”

 

“Christmas is still six weeks shy of our due date. You can knit a blanket in a month, Granny. I believe in your talents like no other.” He tries to work his magic, smile that smile that usually gets Granny to forgive him.

 

“What time is everyone getting to your place, tomorrow?” _Works like a charm._

 

“You can come whenever you wish. You know that. If you so wish it, perhaps you come early enough to accompany me in uh, in preparing?”

 

“Oh, that’s right. It’s your first time cookin’ the bird. Why are you so stubborn, I know Robin offered to do it?” Granny shuffles her weight to her other hip, which means she’s stood too long. She’s a candidate for hip-replacement but is so damn stubborn. She says she plans on leaving this earth with the same parts she came in with.

 

“It’s my home’s inaugural thanksgiving, Granny. You can’t expect the turkey to be cooked in any other oven. You know, Emma handpicked that oven, it took her weeks to decide on which oven to install.”

 

“It took me weeks to get you to make a decision.” Emma corrects. “Don’t drag me into this.” 

 

“Semantics.” He waves his hand before turning back to Granny with a pleading look in his eyes. “I would love it if you could come over and teach me the same way you taught Liam. It would mean a lot to me.” That part isn’t charm. It’s raw and burning his lungs to express but Liam’s turkey was always amazing. Granny showed him how and he never disappointed.

 

This is the first Thanksgiving Emma’s ever had in her own home, there have been very few she’s celebrated in her life and the first time she’s had a family. This is the first time Anna will be around since the accident and he wants to share only the best memories of it years later. This dinner is just as important as Ellie’s party was in proving to everyone that the Jones’ are doing just fine.

 

Granny takes her glasses off to clean them, subtly wiping at the corners of her eyes before she slides them back on and clears her throat. “Well you better be up by seven.”

 

“6:45 to brew your coffee.” He shoots back at her. Granny shakes her head a leaves the table.

 

“Why does she still hate me?” Anna groans once she’s out of earshot.

 

“You know why?” Killian shoots sideways as he readjusts himself in the booth, a little of his own emotions creeping up on him.

 

“Yeah, you definitely know why.” Kris adds. “Have you been doing it again?”

 

“Doing what?”

 

“Don’t play ditzy, Anna.” Killian scolds. “You know damn well what. This is why Granny gets angry with you. You think everyone is foolish.”

 

“Well…if you’re referring to anything involving Ruby, I’ll tell you the same. We’ve been hanging out because she’s my best friend.”

 

“Anna, are you leading her on again?” Kris finally comes out to say.

 

“No!” Anna’s voice is raised, startling Emma and Ellie. “Can we talk about something else?”

 

The conversation is all filler after that. He wants to tune her out all together because the way she always escapes blame boils his blood. They finish up dinner and return home with the same awkwardness still lingering.

 

-/-

 

“Can I skype Henry tomorrow before we eat?” They’re putting Ellie down together. Jake is resting at the foot of the bed with his nose facing her door. They didn’t adopt him in the hopes of having a guard dog, but he became that effortlessly.

 

“Yes, I texted Regina already, she says around two is good.” For whatever reason, Regina refuses to deal with Emma. She only texts Killian to make skype dates for Henry and Ellie. She thinks it’s to keep Henry and Emma from interacting. As hurtful as that is, the compromise is Ellie gets to talk to him and Emma signed up for no contact when she signed her rights away. 

 

“Okay good. I miss him a lot.” Ellie reminds them daily just how much she misses Henry. She’s told everyone at school about him now. She draws pictures for him and asked what colors he wanted her to buy frames in so she could send him framed artwork. Killian’s been teaching her how to spell his name and the other day they covered the letter ‘H’ in school. She made two cereal covered ‘H’s and wants to send them.

 

Killian thinks it’s good for her to understand that sometimes the people we love will be at a distance, but we can still be happy they’re living their lives. It’s a funny lesson to be taught by the man who gave his sister grief for doing the exact same thing this past year.

 

“He misses you, too. You’ll talk to him tomorrow. For now, sleep, okay?”

 

“Okay.” She nods, squeezing Fredrick closer and closing her eyes. “I love you both so much.”

 

“We love you, too.” Emma kisses her first,

 

“More than ever and a little extra after that.” Killian adds, kissing her once Emma’s stepped to the side.

 

He reaches for her hand in the hallway after shutting Ellie’s door. It’s not the gentle squeeze she’s used to, but a careful tug.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I have to talk to you about something?” He checks the hallway as if they aren’t in their own home. “Can we go to our room?”

 

“Isn’t that where we were going anyway?” He purses his lips at her in annoyance. “I mean, of course, Babe, whatever it is. You know you can talk to me.” And now he’s rolling his eyes and pulling her with him toward the bedroom.

 

Once inside he directs her to sit on the bed as he fusses with shutting the door quietly behind them. He’s wiping his hands on his jeans and beginning to pace, his style of pacing of course. He swaggers back in forth across the floor, looking for the words.

 

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

 

“As you know, I spoke with Walsh earlier.” _Walsh._ It’s bad to hate people you barely know, yet here she is completely turned off by this guy. He’s their family’s attorney. Killian associates him with bad news more often than not, but he says he handled Anna’s adoption so it’d only be fitting he handles Ellie’s as well.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Well…what’s right is I was approved and once I sign papers, we’re done with that part. No courts or anything.”

 

“Okay…and what’s wrong?”

 

“I mean, in hindsight, we should have considered how difficult it would be…”

 

“I really need you to get to the point now.” He stalls all movement, releasing this huge sigh.

 

“You’re not approved. We could, we could set up an extended application. They do visits with social workers, they…see Walsh isn’t the right attorney for this, he didn’t know. But once I have full parental rights instated, I would have to give them up to you in order to let you adopt her.”

 

Whale says she has high blood pressure, says she needs to cut back on salt and stress. He didn’t say anything about sadness and that’s all that consumes her in this moment. Her first instinct is to cry, eyes stinging, throat burning, heart aching, but he rushes to her and she’s not sure how she should react. He looks close to tears himself.

 

“Emma there is another option.”

 

“What’s that?” She sniffles, hating the sound. She stares at his left hand on her knee, concentrates on the strength in his voice where she sounds so weak. If parents only want to give their children everything they went without, Emma wants to give Ellie a mother. It’s overwhelming how much it hurts to be denied that now.

 

“Stepparent adoptions.”

 

“Stepparent?”

 

“Yes. I become her legal father and then…and then we get married? You’d be technically a stepmother for a month or so before we—”

 

“Did you say married?” The world stills between two syllables as she tries to remember who she is now.

 

“Emma.” That’s her name, but that’s not who she is now. They haven’t known each other long enough to have a baby and she’s living with him, and talking about adopting his niece with him and now…

 

“Marriage?” It never stops. Every milestone a couple can have is being shoved into such a short amount of time, and they will never get to their one-year anniversary because at this rate, they’ll be renewing their fucking vows. It’s too much. “What are you saying?” She doesn’t want to blink and let tears slip out but she can barely make out his expression through them.

 

“Uh…” his hand slips from her knee as he stands up. “It was just a suggestion, a mere possible solution for our current predicament.”

 

“Is this what you want?” She asks the question but isn’t sure she wants to hear any possible answer for it. She shuts her eyes and drops her head in her hands to brace herself for his reply.

 

“What I want?” It’s quiet for a moment, his feet are still and he breathes these slow and steady sighs. She contemplates everything from engagement rings to a messy divorce in the time it takes him to speak again. She gets anxious waiting and looks up at him to see his thoughts. She thinks the worst is when she reads his thoughts. When it’s so quiet but his brain is so loud she can almost see sentences in the inky pupils spilling into his bright eyes. His pupils always dilate just before he lies. “I just want what you want.”  

 

She thought she had bricks and cement and steel beams around her heart, but he has a titanium block around his head. He doesn’t share his thoughts, rarely shares his memories and keeps a close lock on his hopes and wants.

 

“I want you to lay down with me.” She extends her hand to him but he flinches at it, like she’s asking for more than a companion in bed, but a blanket over the situation. She’s not. She would talk all night about this. He’s the one closing off.

 

“I’m not all that tired right now. I think I’ll get a jump start on prep for tomorrow. Goodnight.” He presses a dry kiss to her forehead and she stills at the unfamiliarity. Her hand drops to the bed and her mind races with ideas of extremities. People never stay together after some form of rejection. She never said ‘no’ but he heard it all the same and maybe she’s exhausted or irrational, but he looks crushed and she hates it.

 

-/-

 

He’s crushed.

 

It’s foolish, truly. He knows her, knows how she thinks and operates and somehow he thought she’d even consider a commitment of this caliber. She’s never reacted well to any other commitment he suggests.

 

Well, not at first.

 

Maybe he thought she’d consider it because she’s let down so many walls as it is, or maybe he was misled by the way she reaches for him in her sleep. She loves him now. Before she wasn’t sure or he wasn’t sure that she did but he knows now. He knows she wants to be with him. She kisses it into his shoulder as he’s putting his shoes on in the morning. She climbs into the shower with him just to remind him before he goes to work. She brings him lunch to the office to say it with food, and when the food is eaten and the day is done, she tells him in more ways than one. ‘You’re perfect’ and ‘I want you forever’ and ‘I love you.’ She loves him.

 

Maybe she’ll still consider it.

 

He thinks about it for the next few hours when the rest of the house is sleeping and he’s scrubbing his hurt feelings deep beneath soap suds and scouring pads. He burned the first batch of pumpkin pecan cookies. Elsa used to make them for fall events. He remembers eating his fill. Emma loves ice cream but he devours cookies like a furry blue beast. He bought all the right ingredients including the spiced pumpkin filling you can only find in this one shop downtown. He bought extras in case he failed the first few times.

 

He’s a great cook, not a great baker. Emma’s actually gotten pretty great at it and she told him with love in her eyes that she’d attempt the recipe. He remembers the night he told her he wanted to try all Liam and Elsa’s old recipes and she responded so supportively it felt like the wedding band was already on his finger.

 

“What’s that?” He’s not shocked that she’s out of bed and looking for him. It’s a quarter to one.

 

“I burned some cookies and the remains are stuck to this cookie sheet.” She’s at his shoulder now, her arms wrap around his middle and he aches with a phantom pain of loss. Part of him has already witnessed her walk out the door from this, part of him is so wrapped up in frightening thoughts that he thinks he hallucinates the warmth of her breath on the back of his neck, and the possessive tugging on his shirt.

 

“Come to bed.” She speaks in his ear. It’s sleepy and demanding at the same time.

 

“I want to try a second batch. I’m not terribly tired, love.”

 

“Well, I’m tired of trying to fall asleep without you.” She wraps her fingers around his wrists and pulls them from the suds, shutting off the water. He sighs and turns in her hold. “I can tire you out if that’s what you want?” She licks her lips and he wants to believe their problems start and stop at every new conversation, but he’s still crushed, hours later and it’s not going to go away by some gentle fondling.

 

“Have you been up this entire time?” He reaches for a kitchen towel to dry his hands on.

 

“I dozed off around twelve, woke up twenty minutes ago and decided to come out and look for you.” The seduction is gone from her face, left is caution. “You know I love you. I know you know that.”

 

“Yes. And I you.” He fakes a quick smile to save face before turning her by her shoulders and persuading her to walk out of the kitchen and back to their bedroom.

 

The bedding is a wreck. The duvet is on the floor and the sheets are all spun up and she looks more shameful than she did just seconds ago. He may be crushed, but it’s affecting her, too.

 

“Emma?”

 

“What do you want Killian? Just tell me what you want?” She picks her lips with her teeth when there’s tension, but she tears the flesh with her nails when she’s scared. “Your happiness matters to me, too.”

 

She wouldn’t trick him. She’s not the type. If she is asking to hear it then she must be ready to know. “I want to marry you.”

 

There’s nothing but silence for a moment. He can’t even hear his own heart beat. She blinks once, twice, three times before wiping away a tear.

 

“Okay.” He tries to swallow air and ends up choking on the words.

 

“Okay?” he manages between hoarse gasps.

 

“I want that two. I never said I didn’t.”

 

“You want to marry me?”

 

“What changes? If we’re married, our relationship as we know it is pretty much at it’s maximum right? We co-parent Ellie, we’re having a baby, we live together, we have a dog. I think we’re pretty much married as it is.”

 

“Well…you’d be my wife.” He glances away, afraid the title may have repercussions. Of course he wants her to want this, but he doesn’t want her to change her mind because she didn’t think it through.

 

“Great. It’s not the end of the world to be your wife. I know you hate when I refer to you as my boyfriend.”

 

“I would rather be your boyfriend than nothing.”

 

“You will never be ‘nothing’ to me.” She implores him to believe her, moving to tug at his shirt again, making him meet her eyes. “You’re everything to me. We don’t have to make this a big deal. Sure, I had a mini-panic attack when you brought it up, but it didn’t take a whole week away from you to realize I want to be with you. That’s progress.”

 

“Yes, it is.” His teeth make an appearance as a genuine smile spills across his lips. He’s just not certain if he’s hearing her correctly. “You would want to get married then?”

 

“I mean, yes I want to sign a paper saying that we’re married; no, I do not want a huge, obnoxious wedding with seven kinds of cake pops.”

 

“Who serves cake pops at a wedding?” She rolls her eyes but loses the grin she was wearing. “You don’t want a wedding at all?”

 

“We could go to the court house like everyone else does when the knock their girlfriend up.” He knows it’s a joke but neither of them are smiling now.

 

“Right…would we tell people we’re married?”

 

“Ellie would be there and we can tell them once we get married, but we’re not having an ‘engagement.’ It’s a decision we made like two modern adults.”

 

It’s not as warm and flowery as he imagined as a child. Yes, he imagined his wedding as a child. He imagined meeting a beautiful woman and wearing a tux and flowers and a cathedral. He imagined Liam and Anna as groomsmen. He could almost hear a heartfelt speech from Elsa about the young lad who used to be.

 

What point is a wedding if they’re not here anyway?

 

Her warm palm finds his jaw, her thumb smoothing over her favorite scar, and when his eyes come back into focus, he notices how sleepy hers are.

 

“We can sleep now, Swan-hyphen-Jones.”

 

-/-

 

Granny gets to their house at 7:00 and he’s exhausted, but he pours her coffee and thanks her for coming to help.

 

She does more than teach him how to cook a moist turkey. She helps him make Elsa’s cookies and makes everyone do their part as well. By 11, Kris is snapping green beans for a casserole after Granny makes him run to the store and get fresh green beans like she showed Elsa years ago, Anna is peeling potatoes for the mashed potatoes and Ellie and Emma roll out pie crust together.

 

It’s insane that he finds her even more beautiful now that she wants to marry him, isn’t it? She keeps staring at him with these playfully flirtatious eyes. He likes having this little secret if it means he’ll get a thrill every time he says ‘Emma’ but thinks ‘Wife.’

 

“I can’t believe you named this baby and won’t tell me.” Granny grumbles, smacking him out of his staring contest with Emma.

 

“I get to pick her middle name, Granny.” Ellie brags. She’s proud of it and he doesn’t want to take that away from her.

 

“Well, are you gonna tell me what that is?”

 

“I don’t know what I want yet.” She has flour dusted on your precious little face as she uses her junior baker rolling pin. “Has to be good, she’s gonna be that forever.”

 

“I’m glad you’re taking the responsibility seriously, Love Bug.” She blinks at him as smugly as a five-year-old can.

 

-/-

 

“Stop breathing down my neck.” It’s officially 1pm and Granny’s patience has run out. Kris asked her three times if he was ‘doing this right’ and she lost it on him. Anna asked her to check the potato-ness of her mashed potatoes and she ripped her a new one, and Killian, poor meticulous Killian asked her to be more descriptive so he could take adequate notes on the turkey and she almost smacked him.

 

Besides Ellie, Emma’s the only one Granny hasn’t been rude to. She should be thankful but seeing her boyfriend get chastised is a little bit of a buzz kill.

 

He’s been staring at her since they woke up this morning, a secret on his lips and this look in his eyes that makes her wonder how she could ever forget how safe she is with him.  He has a way about him, he’s trying his hardest to pay attention to Granny’s lesson but he looks almost too excited to focus. She did that. For once she did something so good to him that it shows, he’s not frustrated or sad or broken, but happy. If she could just figure out how to keep doing it, she’d have no doubts about getting married.

 

She can’t say she has too many doubts now. She does have doubts, of course she has doubts but she literally can’t _say_ it. She can’t stomach seeing him hurt over her again.

 

She thinks if she’s just spontaneous about it, no planning, no time to turn and run then they’ll go through with it and she can keep that look in his eyes. If she just stops feeling like she’s suffocating at the idea, they’ll go through with it and she’ll get everything she wants out of life, a family.

 

-/-

 

The guests start arriving at 4. Mary Margaret and David are first, and he still hadn’t a chance to truly thank them for last week. It’s hard to convey how grateful he is that there are people who love Emma so wholly they would do that for the lot of them. He takes a moment with them both, expressing his upmost gratitude before letting them off to mingle.

 

“David!”

 

“Kris?” Anna predicted they’d be excited to see each other again, and for once in her life, she was right about something.

 

Truth be told, he’s been avoiding his sister. Yes, he asked her to come, ‘badgered’ her if you let her tell it. He kept telling himself to be prepared for a change. When they have a year and tragedy between them, not to mention the Atlantic Ocean, who can expect either of them to be the same?

 

But she is just the same. She will probably never grow up at this rate and he racks his brain trying to understand how a young woman can maintain a child’s mentality for so many years. Just today, for example, she threw a fit because Granny was showing him favoritism. Anna’s problem is she has confused favoritism with familiarity. When she up and left town, she left more than just he and Ellie behind.

 

The most frustrating part is her blatant disgust every time Ellie refers to Emma as ‘Mommy’ and he as ‘Daddy.’ He can’t count on all limbs the number of times he’s caught Anna referring to Liam as her father. She’s a goddamn hypocrite and she started drinking at 2pm.

 

“Is that four or five now?” He gestures to the glass in her hand as she tops it off just before they serve dinner. Without glancing in his direction she shoots back an insult.

 

“Ellie may call you ‘dad’ but if you haven’t noticed, I don’t. It’s not cute to count drinks, Kilo.” She shoves the glass against his chest, lucky that he catches it as she reaches for another one to pour herself. “Before you became this big bad boss of everyone, you used to embark on your own Parrot Bay cruises, Captain. I think I liked you better then.”

 

He liked her better when she was across the ocean.

 

Over the course of a week they’ve managed to avoid any actual arguments, just a trillion snide remarks and irritating facial expressions. She has also managed to avoid spending any actual time with Ellie, the main reason he wanted Anna here. He invited her to a tea party on Monday but she had to reject the offer as she was too busy catching up on American TV. The night before they had dinner together at home and she ignored every question Ellie asked about Liam and Elsa. Then there was yesterday after the diner where she made it seem as if Granny was losing her mind to Ellie, just so no one would suspect Anna to be at fault.

 

“We’re just about to start, Anna.”

 

“Okay?” She shrugs and he contemplates knocking back the drink in his hand and taking hers while he’s at it. He’s been close to sober since the accident and he doesn’t want to ruin that over Anna. He slams the glass in his hands onto the counter and rips away the one she’s holding.

 

“Grab a dish and bring it out.” He grits through his teeth. He swears she’s still sixteen and he’s got none of the patience he had before.

 

They manage to get everything on the table, everyone is seated and they begin going around the table expressing all they’re thankful for. It gets to Emma and she smiles at him, her hand held tight in his.

 

“I never sat around a Thanksgiving table like this before, I’ve never done this.” She smiles wider until soft tears stream from her eyes. “I’m really thankful for my family now and that this family includes all of you.” She sniffles and his heart bursts, so full of love he could just die.

 

“I guess it’s my turn, then.” He sits at the head of the table, Ellie and Emma on his sides as Anna caps the other end. “I’m thankful of course for my family, the addition to come, the progress we’ve all made.” She squeezes his hand tightly, her cheeks round and full as she grins wildly. She wants to marry him and they’re having a baby. No, he doesn’t consider it an even exchange for the loss he’s endured, but it definitely grants him the power to forgive the hell he’s been through.

 

“My turn?” Ellie asks, her hand small and gentle in his own. He nods as encouragingly as he can. “Okay, I’m thankful for my mom and my dad and my baby sister and my big brother and my Jakey and all the people who love me and all the people I love so much.”

 

“Well spoken, Love Bug.”

  
“Thanks.”

 

And it keeps going until it hits Anna, Kris giving thanks for his wife and the family they have in Boston to come home to. He anticipates the arse he knows Anna can be when she’s holding her emotions in. She thinks she’s passive, some would say passive aggressive, he just calls it annoying.

 

“I’m thankful that this town never changes.” She raises her glass and everyone scans their neighbor to see if they should follow. Killian doesn’t raise a goddamn finger.

 

“That’s all?” Ellie asks, squinting her eyes at her aunt. “Everybody says family, Aunnie Anna. You are happy to be home with us, right?”

 

“Sure.” She shrugs, before reaching to serve herself. Ellie turns back to Killian with a sweet little confused look on her pretty face.

 

“Why is she being bad?” Ellie whispers.

 

“Because she is bad.” Killian replies just before standing to carve the turkey.

 

Once everyone has food on their plates, they begin conversation again as if Anna isn’t trying her damnedest to sabotage a good time. He thinks if she just keeps stuffing food in her mouth, he’ll be able to get through dinner without a fight.

 

“Oh, Emma, Killian, how’s the adoption going?” Belle asks after talking to Robin about adopting a dog for Roland now that Ellie has one.

 

“Adoption?” Maybe it’s the liquor that prevents Anna from telling how loud her voice is as it echoes across the whole house. “Legally?”

 

“Yes. Just as you’re legally adopted.” He reminds her. “Emma and I will be legally adopting Eloise.”

 

“I didn’t realize you were adopted.” Mary Margaret tries to make conversation at a very inopportune time as Anna blatantly ignores her and stands, her chair tumbling backward and crashing against the hardwood.

 

“Funny, I didn’t know you were the handy type but that hammer looks good on you, Kilo.”

 

“Pick up that chair.” He voices lowly.

 

“Look at you, pounding another nail into their coffins.” If she was a little more sober, she would have noticed no one was waiting for the explanation to that metaphor. It was idiotic and something only the inebriated would say.

 

“People don’t wear hammers, Anna. Pick up that chair.”

 

“Damn the chair, Killian!” She shouts, slamming her hands against the table. This is the second dinner they’ve had this month that’s been ruined by some sort of drama. At this rate, no one will ever attend another gathering at their house. “When were you going to tell me that you were adopting their daughter?”

 

“When you showed some interest in her!” And bitterness is an infectious disease as it spreads from the corner he banished it to, to his heart, mind and vocal chords. “This isn’t about Ellie, this is about you. What is it to you? Why are you angry? Why are you ruining Thanksgiving?”

 

Emma adjusts herself in the chair beside him, a deep breath leaving her lungs.

 

“Why are you yelling!” Ellie shouts causing Emma and Mary Margaret to stand simultaneously.

 

“Ellie, Roland, let’s go get dessert ready.” Emma suggests, but only Roland responds, Ellie remains seated with her hand falling over Killian’s.

 

“Why are you ruining their legacy?” Anna fires back and it breaks his resolve. He stands too, slipping his hand from Ellie’s as he moves around the table toward Anna. Ruby and Robin stand to stop him, but this is all overdue and he can’t let anyone else postpone it. It’s about time they have it out.

 

“Eloise, I asked you to come into the kitchen.” He hears Emma repeat. He turns back to find Ellie’s arms folded and eyes downcast.

 

“Ellie, go with your mother.”

 

“I don’t want Aunnie Anna to be mean to you!” She whines, scratching at her forehead and pouting. Granny rises and scoops Ellie into her arms. He watches Ellie bury her face in Granny’s shoulder, cries bellowing out. The sound only fuels his rage. Once she’s out of sight he turns back to Anna, his teeth shaking when he goes to speak.

 

“How dare you. You think that you have any right? You don’t give a shit about anyone here.”

 

“And you don’t give a shit about the people who can’t be here.” She fires back, pushing Ruby and Robin out of her way.

 

“You don’t know anything about me, Anna.” He spits, his chest rising and falling every half-second. “Unlike you, I’ve changed. I’ve grown. You’re still a child, upset when everything doesn’t revolve around her.”

 

“I get it, I’m selfish, but you’re ungrateful. Don’t sit here and give thanks for the family you have, the daughter you took from them.”

 

“TOOK?” He’s not the type to scream, especially not with his jaw this tight. “You realize they died, don’t you? They are dead. Liam and Elsa are dead, Anna and they left her with me.”

 

“Do I realize they’re dead? Are you kidding me? I got to the hospital before you that day, Killian. I identified their bodies. Yes, I know they’re dead, you ass.” She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t flinch. She’s always been a bull until Liam comes in and she shatters on command. “Seems like they died just in time for you to fill their shoes and have the family you always wanted.”

 

“Anna?” Ruby gasps. He hears a bit of movement behind him but his laser sights are set on the target before him.

 

“Watch your damn mouth.”

 

“I’ve been watching my mouth since I got here, I’ve been pretending not to think it’s absolutely disturbing that you would buy a house with the girl you haven’t known long enough to have a child with. I’ve been quiet while you have Ellie calling her ‘mom’ and I’ve been watching you erase Liam and Elsa from her life completely.”

 

“You know nothing!” He growls. “They are everywhere in this home and everywhere in her features, her personality. She knows exactly who they are. We have had several talks about them. You know what would be nice, her getting to have a talk with you about them. Why don’t you tell her how Liam used to call you ‘Sunshine,’ or what Elsa was like as a teenager? Why don’t you—”

 

“I don’t know what she was like as a fucking teenager!” She screams, throwing her hands up dramatically. “I don’t know anything about my sister or Liam’s youth. I only know them as parents, because that’s all they got to be, Killian. Doesn’t it just make you sick? Don’t you lose sleep?”

 

“You would know everything I lost had you been here, had you not been the 3rd on the list of things lost to me.”

 

“You weren’t exactly there for me either, Killian. You’d call and we’d talk about Ellie and how great you were adjusting. You never once called me without Ellie, you never asked me how I was surviving. You had no idea what it was like for me.”

 

“You had a husband to talk to, Anna, I had a three-year-old I tried my hardest not to cry in front of everyday.”

 

“I get it, I know all about ‘Killian, the father-figure.’ I knew nothing about the grieving kid who lost his role models. You hid him well from me so you don’t get to tell me I wasn’t there. You never came to me about it.”

 

“You never came to me either. You took off and started risking your life like a fucking idiot. You took off and I wondered if you’d ever come home alive, or if they’d ship your body back to be buried beside them.”

 

“I never knew if I’d come home alive either and to be perfectly honest, I liked it that way.” He thinks he’s done now. She can go jump into a tornado for all he cares. He thinks he wants to comfort Ellie and let Anna burn every bridge in Boston before getting on a plane to anywhere else. She looks so sure of herself at first. Her chin is strong and her eyes look decided. He thinks she’s said enough to finish this conversation.

 

He knows he’d rather be with his daughter than go against the bull before him, but he stays. He stands still because some days Anna is the bull. Some days she’s the bumbling, stubborn little girl she’s always been, wreaking havoc on the people that care so deeply for her. But that’s only some days. Other days she’s the china shop. She beats herself up and she breaks. He stays long enough to watch her proud chin tremble beneath her quivering bottom lip. He stays just long enough to see a year and a half worth of porcelain shatter.

 

“I’d go from ‘why am I not living my life to the fullest’ to ‘why am I still alive when they’re not.’ I have survivor’s guilt like I was in the car, or better yet, the driver who killed them.” She sniffles and snorts something disgusting and raw. She’s not faking these tears and he’s not trapped like he usually is, he’s devastated. They tumble down her cheeks like they’re both standing in the middle of a storm getting soaked and he finds his cheeks dampening as well. “How can you not feel guilty? They spent their youth struggling to raise us. Now they don’t get to raise their own kid? How is that fair? How can you adopt her, how can you just be them when they can’t be them?”

 

“Because they _can’t_ be them.” He swipes at his cheeks in irritation. “Do you remember your parents, Anna?”

 

“I was three, you know that.”

 

“So was she.” Anna drops eye contact then. “She’s not going to remember anything about him. Every memory she has will be borrowed. I get that you loved them, Anna. No one else in this world will understand it like I do, but they’re gone. It’s been over a year and a half and she wants to move on. We all want to move on. It’s not my fault you weren’t here to progress with us.”

 

“So what does that mean for me?”

 

“You either move on with us or get left behind.”

 

-/-

 

The yelling stopped a few minutes ago. Granny has the kitchen radio cranked up and playing Christmas songs already. There’s still low mumbling beneath it. Ellie is sitting on the counter in front of Emma as she’s settled on a barstool, rubbing circles into Ellie’s back. She stopped crying but is still sniffling and sad.

 

There are more people huddled around the island than in their formal dining room. David and Belle were the last to join the fray.

 

“Some first Thanksgiving, huh?” Granny approaches with a shareable slice of apple pie a la mode. She means to laugh, but tears slip out by mistake. She’s too pregnant for all of this, her stomach’s been cramping since Anna shared what she was most thankful for. She thinks if she ignores it, it’ll go away, but the pain shoots to her back. “Are you alright?”

She wants to nod but ends up shaking her head honestly.

 

“What’s wrong?” Ellie snaps her head to stare at Emma.

 

“I just have a bad tummy ache.” And suddenly speaking about it makes the pain all that much worse. She turns to angle herself differently on the stool and something that she refuses to believe is a contraction hits her and steals her breath.

 

“Emma?” Mary Margaret and David make their way over to her, “Are you okay? Is it the ba—” Emma quickly signals her friend to stop speaking with a shake of her head.

 

“We should get you to the hos—” David begins and Emma cuts him off again with a wide-eyed pleading, motioning to Ellie with a slight hand gesture. She catches sight of movement between Mary Margaret and David’s shoulders. She doesn’t get a good glimpse until after Ellie calls it out.

 

“Daddy!” Killian scoops Ellie into his arms, pressing his lips to her temple but Ellie tugs away, grabbing his face with two hands. “My mom’s tummy is hurting really bad.” She didn’t want Ellie to panic but now she’s all bug-eyed and frightened. This is turning out to be the worst day ever.

 

“S’that true?” he cups Emma’s face before she gets a chance to downplay it. Sometimes, it’s a curse to feel this comfortable with him. The moment he touches her and turns those bright blue eyes on her, she folds, allowing her own fear to shine through.

 

“I just…are you okay?” She attempts and he widens his eyes, his brow furrowing.

 

“Emma? Are you in pain? Is it the baby?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 


End file.
